


First Kisses

by kandekaze



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2020-09-06 08:47:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 27,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20288707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kandekaze/pseuds/kandekaze
Summary: Post S4. It's been six months since Lucifer left. Trixie is now twelve, and has decided that Hell and Heaven are nothing more than the adult versions of Santa and the Easter Bunny-a way to make adults behave. However, when a boy who has a crush on her asks her to the movies, Trixie decides to pray that Chloe says she can go-and she prays for Lucifer's return, as well.





	1. Chapter 1

<p>Trixie missed Lucifer a lot. Maybe more than her mom did. But maybe only just as much as she did because Trixie was tired of waking up and seeing her mom continue to be sad and not being able to do anything about it.

"Mom," Trixie called, coming out of her room. She was wearing a brand-new jean skirt that Maze had helped her pick out, since it was her first year of middle school. She'd only been there for three days, but she could assure anyone who asked that sixth grade was literal Hell. The food was bad, the homework was worse, and the people were plain awful. "Can you French braid my hair? Into pigtails?"

"Whatever you want, baby," Chloe answered, setting down her iPad and motioning for Trixie to sit at the breakfast bar. Chloe had bags under her eyes, and her hair was piled into a messy bun. Chloe had tried really hard to make it seem like everything was okay, but Trixie could tell that it wasn't true. Trixie could always tell.

"When's Lucifer coming back?" Trixie wondered aloud as her mother tangled her hands into her hair, pulling it gently into the requested braids.

First, Chloe had told her that Lucifer was going on a vacation like they had when they toured Europe. Then, she had told her that he had a family emergency to take care of. But that had been six months ago, and Trixie really missed him.

"I don't know, love bug. I don't know."

Trixie didn't know the extent of her mother's relationship with Lucifer; they had been partners and friends, and Chloe had never told Trixie that she liked him, like like-liked him, but Trixie was certain that it had been the case. Especially seeing how upset her mother was with his absence. She had started talking of him just like she talked of Trixie's dead grandfather, and Trixie hoped that Lucifer wasn't dead, too. Oh well. If he was dead, someone would have definitely told her.

##

"Maze," Trixie asked from behind the bar. Maze didn't live with them anymore because she stayed at Lucifer's. Sometimes she would pick Trixie up from school, which were Trixie's favorite days. "Is Lucifer dead?"

Maze stalled, emptying the rest of the whisky bottle into her glass. Maze had never offered it to her since the first time that they had met, and Trixie really wished that she would. She knew now that it was alcohol, and it was in all the movies. She wanted to know what it tasted like. She was old enough now to know the truth—she was twelve.

Maze drank the entire glass in one gulp, and then set it down with a clink. "Nope."

"Where is he? Is he still with his family?"

"He's in Hell," Maze answered, leaning against the counter, arms crossed. Maze missed Lucifer more than she ever thought she would—but mostly she was angry with him. Beyond angry. He had left her behind after all she had done to follow him. And so what if she actually had come to be fond of Earth. If she liked the humans, if she liked Trixie, if she liked Eve, and partying and dancing and the taste of peanut butter—they didn't have that in Hell. She pushed away all of those feelings to focus on how angry she was at Lucifer for not being here. For sacrificing himself.

Those humans didn't realize what a service he was doing keeping all those souls away, and yet they continued to blame him for everything.

But then Trixie surprised her.

"Hell isn't real," she said flippantly, tossing her braid over her shoulder.

Maze's brows furrowed and she stared at the child in front of her. Trixie didn't consider herself a child anymore—no one in sixth grade did—but Maze continued to only see her as that. She'd never seen a human child develop before. Didn't quite understand what had changed from Trixie believing the falsehoods, that she could be president of Mars to not believing in Hell, the truths.

"Yes, it is," Maze argued.

"No, it isn't."

"Yes, it is," She insisted, leaning forward even further, now glaring.

But Trixie wasn't fazed. She was in middle school now. She had real homework and real responsibilities. There was even a boy who had a crush on her now. She couldn't be fooled anymore. "It's just like the North Pole. Another one of those things adults tell kids to make them be good. Except Hell is the grown-up version. To make grown-ups behave."

Maze sighed, then stood up and reached behind her for more of the alcohol. It hardly fazed her. This one was Grey Goose. Vodka, her second favorite. She drank it straight from the bottle, then set it on the counter between them. Trixie's deep brown eyes were still watching her.

"Why don't you think it's real?"

Trixie shrugged. "It's just not. It's fairytale stuff."

Maze raised an eyebrow. "What do you think happens when you die then?"

"Nothing happens. It's just black. Like dark matter. In space."

Maze remembered the little girl not quite so long ago whose ambition was to be the president of Mars. The memory overwhelmed her, a happier time, when they had spent hours dressing up for Halloween, when Maze had shown Trixie what she really looked like, and Trixie had thought it was cool. She missed that little girl. Maze picked up the bottle and began to drink from it again.

"Is Lucifer dead?" Trixie asked her again, watching her closely.

Maze set down the bottle and raised her eyebrows. "I told you already. He's in Hell."

They stared at each other again, and finally Trixie reached into her backpack and pulled out her homework. Her drawing assignment was hard work, and she bet that if Lucifer came back, he would be able to help her.

He was good at a lot of things.

##

Mr. Wyatt reminded her of Lucifer because of his accent. He was her art teacher, and she had art for fifth period. He was from London and had moved to LA to pursue a career in acting, but he told them on the first day of class that he was only doing commercials for now. That he was trying to take some time to learn the culture of Los Angeles before moving headstrong into his acting.

"Hi Mr. Wyatt," Trixie greeted him, once the bell had rung and the class had filed out. Trixie hated having so many teachers in one day, but she had to admit it was nice to have a change.

"Beatrice," he said, smiling down at her. She didn't know why he insisted on calling her by her full name—she hated it. "What can I do for you? Did you understand yesterday's homework?"

"Yes," she frowned. Trixie never had a problem with homework. It was all easy for her. "Why?"

"Well, you didn't quite do the last assignment correctly—you were supposed to draw something that makes you happy. This looks quite the opposite," he replied, taking out a stack of papers and thumbing through it until he found hers.

Trixie had drawn the gates of Hell, complete with plenty of fire and green little serpents. She drew Lucifer there in the corner just for the kick of it. She'd given him a pitchfork and a tail and horns. It wasn't meant to be sad; just truthful. After Maze had told her that Lucifer was there, she couldn't get it out of her mind. She knew that they were all being metaphorical, all of them speaking in codes to keep her from knowing the truth—maybe Lucifer had become a drug addict or fled the country; maybe he'd gotten in trouble for not paying his taxes.

"Mr. Wyatt," she questioned, looking up at the man and squinting. He was tall and had dark hair, but he wasn't as pretty as Lucifer. Maybe he'd heard of him. "Do you know Lucifer Morningstar? He's British, like you."

Mr. Wyatt smiled and set her drawing back down, crossing his arms and staring down at her. "The UK's quite a big place."

"Lucifer's rich. Really rich. He's kind of famous too. He owns his own nightclub."

The man's lips were in a straight line and he shook his head, probably questioning whether or not a twelve-year-old should know what a nightclub was. Oh well, technology had already ruined the planet and the hope of every future generation. "I'm afraid I don't know of him. You better go ahead to class before you miss the bell. Oh, and Beatrice?" He called, just as she was about to leave the room. "Draw something happier next time, alright?"

Trixie didn't smile at him, but she kept walking anyway. Happy meant different things to different people.

##

The boy with the crush on her was called Jesús. He'd just moved from San Diego, and he was only a few inches taller than Trixie. They had math and science together, and Jesús liked to sit with Trixie and her friends at lunch—he didn't know anyone else. He had two dimples and he wore a crucifix beneath his Harry Potter t-shirt. Trixie caught a glance of it in the lunch line when he bent over to get a corndog.

"Do you believe in God?" She whispered, picking up her own food and looking over at him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. "My name is Jesús."

Trixie laughed and he grinned at her. She grinned back, and the guy behind them cleared his throat for them to keep moving. They paid for their food and made their way out to the cafeteria, where there were hundreds of students outside already. The middle school, even though it only had three grades, was a lot bigger than her old school. Trixie continued to grin, but she didn't want Jesús to see her, so she looked down at her boots. They were really cool—lace up one's colored pink and purple and blue. Maze had helped her pick them out when they'd gone back to school shopping together.

"So you think Hell is real too, then?" Trixie asked him as they sat down at one of the long brown tables. Her friends weren't there yet, and they couldn't be considered Jesús's friends—at least not yet.

"Of course," he said, shoveling corn into his mouth. "Don't you?"

Trixie probably had more proof than anyone. But she only shrugged.

"My ma is real into it," Jesús continued. "She won't even let us watch horror movies or anything because she says that demons can use them to get inside our souls. We have holy water in the living room, even. Our house was blessed by a real priest. My tía's a nun."

Trixie's eyes widened. "That's so cool. Does she actually get to talk to God?"

Jesús laughed. "That's not how it works. I don't really get to see her anymore. She has to stay at the church all the time. And she only gets like, one week off a year."

One of the boys at the end of the table spewed milk everywhere, and Trixie rolled her eyes. Boys were still stupid, no matter how old they got.

Trixie's friend Becca sat down, slamming her tray in front of them. She immediately started talking about what had happened on Snapchat the night before, when Veronica Mendes, who had used to be in their friend group, had posted pictures of her with the demon filter.

Jesús and Trixie met each other's eyes and grinned. Trixie was starting to really like the way his dimples looked. They made him look kind of like a famous singer. They were still grinning at each other as the table filled up with all of Trixie's friends, who all had opinions on Becca and the demon filter.

Trixie had a hard time knowing what to say. She thought that it was mean, but she knew that Becca had been really mean to Veronica Mendes before, too. Becca had told everyone that Veronica had slobbered all over this boy's face when they were making out, when even Trixie knew that Veronica Mendes hadn't had her first kiss yet, because no one in their friend group had.

Jesús was the only boy sitting at their table. He shrugged. "Maybe you should ignore her. It's just a joke."

Becca glared at him, but Trixie smiled. Becca ignored him for the rest of lunch, and the rest of the girls did too. He waited until the rest of them had left and he and Trixie were walking to science to ask her.

"Do you want to go to the movies on Saturday?" he asked, not looking at her, and gazing specifically at the linoleum in front of them. The hallway was full of green colored lockers, but no one ever used them. Most of their lessons were electronic, so they only carried around laptops. "There's this really cool new spy movie coming out, about how someone tries to kill the Queen. It's rated PG-13, but they probably won't ask. My older brother can drive us. You know, if you want."

He looked worriedly over at her. Trixie didn't miss a beat as they walked into their science class. "I'll ask my mom."

They had assigned seats and sat on opposite sides of the classroom, so Trixie didn't talk to him anymore. Still she couldn't believe that a boy had just asked her to go to the movies with him—she really was grown-up!

##

Both Chloe and Dan were working overnight, so Trixie had a babysitter. She insisted that she was old enough to stay by herself, but Chloe wouldn’t allow it. This also meant she didn't get to ask Chloe if she could go to the movies with Jesús. She for sure wasn't going to ask her dad if he was okay with it. Instead, she lay in her bed, closed her eyes, and decided to pray.

Dear God. I'm not really sure if you're real or not, but Jesús does, and I really like him a lot. I really want to go to the movies with him, so could you please make my mom say yes? Also, if you are real, and you are listening, can you make Lucifer come back? Please. It'd make her really happy. Thanks. Amen.

##

It looked like Trixie would have to decide to believe in God, because Chloe said yes to the movies, but exasperatedly that, no, she hadn't seen Lucifer yet. Trixie just shook her head triumphantly because she now thought that maybe God was real and he wouldn't leave her hanging.

At exactly 1:30pm on Saturday, Jesús and his older brother Hugo picked her up. It was an old two-door Nissan, and Hugo drove awfully, but every few minutes, Jesús would turn around and grin at her, showing off his dimples, and Trixie knew that it was worth it.

The sun was bright as always, and Hugo went through the McDonald's drive-thru. Jesús and her got a twenty-piece nugget to share. Hugo didn't talk much; he had a couple tattoos and his hair was curly. Jesús told her that Hugo was already in college, that he was at UCLA studying anthropology, which Trixie didn't entirely know what that meant, but figured it was a big deal just by how many syllables it had.

Hugo dropped them off outside of the movie theater, promising to come back in two hours, and reminding Jesús to keep his phone in his pocket. He said something in Spanish too, but Trixie didn't speak it well enough to understand.

Jesús was a lot quieter now that it was just them, too. He tried to pay for her ticket, but Trixie had used the money her mom gave her because of all the times that she'd been told it was a man's man's world and she didn't want to partake in that, either.

Trixie bought popcorn for them to share, and Jesús bought them drinks and candy. He told her that he had used his babysitting money to pay for the movie. Trixie felt her cheeks heat up at the fact that Jesús was a babysitter while she still had a babysitter.

She should have talked to Maze about what she was supposed to do at the movies. Maze would have known what to do.

The theater was completely empty besides the two of them, which made sense because this movie had been out for a while. If Jesús hadn't asked her to see it, Trixie would have suggested they see the new Star Wars.

"Where do you want to sit?" Jesús asked, as they observed the rows and rows of seats.

He gestured to the back, and Trixie's face flamed even more because of all the times that Becca had told her of how the back row of the theater was called Make-Out Row, and how her older sister had lost her whole virginity in one of these rooms.

Trixie didn't even know how to kiss. She couldn't do anything more than that. Startled, she pointed to the row right in front of them. "Let's sit here."

It was the kind of seats that were so close to the screen that they would have to crane their necks to look at them, and Jesús looked like he was just about to say something, but then he shrugged and scooted into the row. Trixie followed him, and for a few minutes, they oriented themselves.

Trixie didn't know why she was so nervous.

After all, Jesús was just a boy, and they were only in sixth grade. But she was all sweaty and nervous, and even when the trailers started and she saw Jesús put his hand on the arm rest, just like all the boys did in movies, she was careful to keep hers draped in her lap, cradling the popcorn.

But the movie was so bad. And this was her friend Jesús. She glanced over at him out of the corner of her eye, watching how entranced he was by the movie, how he kept laughing and showing off those dimples every single time. Finally, she reached over and poked his hand with her pinky finger.

He caught her eye and grinned, interlacing their fingers, and then looked back at the screen. Jesús continued to laugh intermittently, but Trixie could hardly contain her glee.

She was holding hands with a boy! Just wait till Becca heard! They held hands the whole length of the movie, and when it was over, they sat watching the credits.

"That was awesome!" Jesús cried, letting go of her hand and throwing his into the air to show his surprise. "Like did you see how she wasn't just a double agent? She was a triple agent! A quadruple agent! That was so cool! I want to see it again."

Trixie hadn't really been paying much attention to the movie, so she was thoroughly confused by how many different doublings of agents there were.

Then Trixie wasn't even sure how it happened, but she blinked and then Jesús had pressed his lips against hers, her eyes still wide open.

Her eyes widened even further, as she was surprised by how this felt like nothing she had read about. There were no fireworks, no special feelings. It didn't feel like the world had suddenly begun again. It just felt like his lips against hers. But still when he pulled back, she lifted her hand to her lips, because they felt like they had been scorched.

"What on Earth are you doing, urchin?" A familiar voice startled her, and Trixie jumped out of her seat as she turned to see Lucifer standing in the doorway of the movie theatre.

She had thought that God would pull through.

"Lucifer!" She cried, running over and throwing her arms around him. He didn't flinch away from her like he normally did, and instead patted her on the head.

"Yes, I'm afraid it is me," he said. "Who's your friend, child? Or your, er, more than friend."

Trixie took his arm and led him over to where the boy was still sitting, looking completely embarrassed and somewhat scared. Lucifer kind of looked like he might be Trixie's dad—they both had dark hair and eyes, and Jesús had never met her dad before. Though Trixie called him by his first name, and if Jesús called his dad by his name, he'd be in trouble for a week.

"This is Jesús," she explained. "My friend."

"You humans always do have a knack for naming their offspring after the most boring of people." He snorted, then his eyes flickered down to the boy. He grinned, playing with his cuffs. "What's your surname, child? Milagro?"

Jesús's eyes widened, not quite getting the joke. "No, sir. It's Hernandez."

"This is Lucifer," Trixie told him. "My mom's work partner."

Lucifer's smile dropped at the use of the present—just how long would it take for him to be replaced? He'd felt like he'd been in Hell for years, but only six months had passed here. And for Chloe to still consider him her partner—he felt a strange sensation in his chest.

But Jesús's eyes widened even further and he gasped. "Like the devil?"

"Precisely," Lucifer quipped. "Now come on, children. Pip pip. Now, how are you getting home?"

Trixie indicated that she was to leave with Jesús, but Lucifer shook his head. "Absolutely not. You're coming with me."

Trixie followed him as he walked towards the exit of the theatre, squinting as they made the transition from the dark of the theatre to the light outside. Lucifer smelt like cigarettes, and unlike the cologne she remembered that he used. He was dressed in one of his suits, but his shoes were a little scuffed up. She wrinkled her nose—Lucifer would never dress like that.

Jesús rushed to keep up with them but he kept falling behind. And Lucifer hadn't seemed to like him at all.

When they reached the outside, Hugo was waiting for him, and Trixie noticed it at the same time that he did.

She came to a stop, and Lucifer huffed and looked down at her. "What is it now—Oh."

Trixie reached forward and gave Jesús a hug. "Thanks for inviting me to the movies."

Jesús grinned at her. "Thanks for coming with me."

Lucifer rolled his eyes and pinched Trixie's shirt, pulling it lightly, but with enough force so that she jolted away. "Come on, child, I haven't got all day."

Trixie huffed at him then grinned again at Jesús, promising to text him that night. Lucifer rolled his eyes three more times and then pulled at Trixie's sleeve again. Finally, she turned away. They were in step as they reached his Camaro, and Trixie would have asked if she could drive it finally, if it weren't for the fact that Lucifer was staring at her as if she had lost her mind.

"Where did you go?" Trixie asked him cheerfully as they got inside.

Lucifer didn't crank up the engine as he turned to face her. He raised one eyebrow. "I was in Hell."

"No, I mean, where did you really go?"

He exhaled. Now he'd have to convince the detective's offspring as well? She had always seemed to believe him, some part of her, at least. "I was in Hell," he repeated dryly.

Trixie rolled her eyes. "It's okay, Lucifer. You can tell me the truth. I'm a lot older now. I mean," she leaned in towards him, and then squealed so loud that he jerked away. "I just had my first kiss!"

She grinned at Lucifer, reminding him much more of a maniac than ever before. It was crazy to him how much she had changed since he'd last seen her. Soon, he wouldn't even call her child. He'd have to stick with urchin.

"Where are we going?" She said, squinting at him as he finally turned the car on. Lucifer looked at her again and then looked forward, shifting into gear. As he drove out of the parking lot, he muttered, "To see your mother."</p>


	2. Chapter 2

Lucifer had the music up so loud that Trixie couldn't talk over it. Well she could have, but he wouldn't hear her, and even though Lucifer was back, and she was very happy to see him, Jesús had already snapped her twice. She was showing him how cool it was to ride with the top down. Her hair, which she'd left down and straight, was flowing in the wind. She kind of looked like someone famous, maybe a singer or someone from Disney. It was golden hour, the sky the particular shade that warranted the best lighting for photos, and Trixie knew her background was much better than Jesús's.

Finally, when Lucifer stopped at the light, the wind cooled down enough for her to be understood. "This music is really bad."

He just gaped at her. He'd put on a pair of sunglasses as the sun had both of them squinting, and Trixie couldn't help but think that Lucifer really was an attractive guy. Lucifer was definitely handsome enough to be a movie star. She bet if he were up against her art teacher Mr. Wyatt, there'd be no contest.

If only her mother would date him. Then Trixie could have a hot, rich, famous stepdad and all of her friends at school would be jealous.

"This is the Stones," Lucifer said, still taken aback. Trixie didn't need for him to take off his glasses to know that he was glaring at her. "The _Rolling _Stones. Child, you have no taste."

Trixie shrugged. "I think it's bad. Can we listen to something else? BTS?"

Lucifer continued to stare at her, shaking his head back and forth. His lips were pressed together in a straight line. "Absolutely not. Why do you even like them? You don't speak _Korean_. English is your language, and the Rolling Stones are _English._"

The light changed to green, but Lucifer didn't notice, still glaring at Trixie. When the car behind them beeped its horn, Lucifer fully turned around to glare at them.

The car only beeped its horn again.

"So you know BTS!" Trixie grinned, clapping her hands together. "Who's your favorite? My favorite is Jungkook, but he's _everyone's _favorite. I wanted my mom to buy me this folder with his face on it when we went shopping, but—"

Lucifer had pressed the gas so hard that the engine whirred to life and the tires screeched against the road, and Trixie could no longer be heard over the wind or the music. She watched Lucifer drive instead.

She went back to snapping Jesús but then as they got closer and closer to her house, she couldn't help but think about how happy her mom was going to be. Chloe had the night off, so she was bound to be home, probably moping around like she often did when she thought Trixie didn't notice.

But it was LA, and there was a _lot _of traffic, which made Trixie sigh as they came to a stop and she locked her phone.

The music was sadder now. Trixie disliked it even more.

"This song is depressing," she told Lucifer. She normally liked the sound the guitar made, but this one just seemed so much like dead people and bad things. "Why do people like 'The Stones' or whatever you called them?"

"Everything is depressing," he muttered. "And this isn't The Stones."

"But you said—"

He rolled his eyes. "That was the last song. This is Pink Floyd."

"What's this song called?" Trixie said, the name piquing her interest. It was a much cooler name than The Rolling Stones. Anyone could be a stone. But Pink Floyd was a cool name. Maybe it wasn't so depressing after all.

"It's called 'Wish You Were Here," Lucifer responded, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel. He murmured, "It's one of my favorites."

Trixie tilted her head as her phone vibrated with another snap from Jesús. She ignored it. "Does it make you think about someone who's dead?"

Lucifer turned to look at her, his mouth falling slightly open.

They edged forward in traffic. It would take them at least another half hour to make it to the detective's apartment, at this rate. It was getting closer to dusk, and if the traffic got much worse, he was going to have to pull over and buy some food. He was hungry, and his mouth watered at the thought of tacos. Real tacos from a street truck, the three tiny tortillas with lemon. Peppers and onions. Jamaica, if he picked the right truck.

Which of course he would; he was Lucifer Morningstar after all.

"Yes," he said, closing his mouth and looking forward. They were sandwiched by two black SUVs on either side of them. Lucifer wasn't one to look back on the past with regret. But he had thought about his last few minutes with Chloe over and over again until it felt like she _was _dead, except dead the way that people who were atheists believed life was like after death.

The kind of dead where nothing happened. As if Chloe had been erased from existence instead of the eternal trip to the Silver City her soul warranted. 

"Who do you miss?" Trixie continued, sitting cross-legged in the seat.

His mouth twisted as he saw that her shoes were on his seats. His _leather _seats. He'd forgotten how nosy the detective's offspring was. Almost exactly like Chloe, but in child form.

"Your mother," he quipped, then reached over and shoved her foot off the seat. "Now, no dirty shoes on my leather! Who knows where those boots that you call _fashion _have been."

But Trixie only stared at him, not moving. When she spoke, her tone had an edge to it. She couldn't help it—it was probably her biggest fear. "My mom's not dead."

Lucifer sighed impatiently. "I know she's not dead. But she can't bloody well pop into Hell to visit me, can she?"

"Do you like-_like_ her?" Trixie asked. If she was going to help them ever get together, she needed to know the truth.

"Do I _what?_"

Trixie frowned, her eyebrows furrowing. How could someone not know what something so basic meant? She would have to try another angle. She didn't understand why he and Maze were so dead set on keeping up this lie. Finally, after they inched forward once more, Trixie sighed and put her feet back on the floorboard. "It's okay, Lucifer. You can tell me the truth. Are you a dealer now?"

"Am I a _what?" _

"Do you sell heroin? Is that why you can't work with my mom anymore? Because she'll have to arrest you?" She reached forward and patted his arm. "I'm sure if you tell her the truth, she can help you. She helps get me out of trouble all of the time."

"I'm not—" Lucifer swallowed. "I'm not a drug dealer. And how do you even know what heroin is? Aren't you a little too young for that sort of development?"

Trixie rolled her eyes. "Everyone knows what heroin is, Lucifer. So, are you running from the police, then? Did you steal something?" She frowned. Her face fell and then she whispered, "Are you a dad now?"

Lucifer stared at her, his mouth hanging open. He drove the length of one car and then they stopped again. "No, I haven't fathered any children! I don't like them. Abhorrent little creatures." He shuddered. Then he realized Amenadiel would know that he was back and realized he'd have to pop round and see that particular child. "Except for my nephew." As an afterthought he added, "And you, maybe."

Trixie grinned at him. She knew that Lucifer had a weird way of showing how he loved people. He was like trying to learn French, as she was doing in school now. You just had to learn how to speak him. All the different tenses and expressions.

"Does that mean that you'll be my mom's partner again? She really missed you, Lucifer. She's sad a lot now. And she just doesn’t have fun anymore, not the way we used to."

Lucifer's heart seemed to beat a little slower, and he swallowed. He'd been afraid of that. Afraid that it would break the detective to see him go. Afraid that he'd messed something up worse than he could ever fix. He wasn't angry with her anymore; certainly, didn't feel betrayed by her anymore. Unlike humans, he got over everything quite quickly. He only missed her. But Lucifer wasn't sure how long he would be staying, and he wasn't even sure how he had gotten back to Los Angeles at all.

He just didn't want to hate himself again.

Trixie reached over and patted him on the arm, and he suddenly felt so attached to the little human that he realized he'd missed her more than he thought.

He swallowed. "Here," he said, reaching for his phone and handing it to her. "You can change the song. To whatever you'd like."

Trixie beamed at him, taking his phone as if it was the best gift she'd ever seen. The Camaro was old, but a year or so prior to leaving for Hell, he'd had the radio exchanged for a modern Bluetooth system. There was a lot of bad music out there, certainly more than he cared for, but there were a lot of good ones, too. He was quite fond of a few of them, and he liked the ability to choose when he could listen to music that the Bluetooth system gave him.

Moments later, the beats of one of Taylor Swift's songs began blaring. Lucifer winced at how loud it was—the older music wasn't quite as quality as the newer ones—and turned it down. But he quite liked the Reputation album. He thought it was cohesive, and he adored the fact that it was so focused on the idea of a reputation. He could sort of relate to Taylor Swift on a mortal level, after all.

Finally, the traffic let up enough for him to pull off of the highway, and he found a nice taco truck pulled off to the side. There were a few palm trees in the distance, and the sun was setting. You couldn't get much better than a Los Angeles sunset, that was for sure. If only he had the view from Lux. If only the detective was with him.

He turned the car off and pushed his door open. "Come now, child. We're having dinner."

##

They had listened to half of _Reputation _by the time they arrived outside of the apartment, and Lucifer couldn't help but feel nervous as he stared at Chloe's building. It was a feeling that was almost completely new to him. He was dreading seeing her, but also couldn’t hold his excitement. He remembered how she had been when she'd finally seen proof of the truth, and he was worried that she would do something again.

Because maybe for him, time didn't really change anything. It was barely a variable that needed to even be considered when eternity was your lifespan. But for humans it mattered so much…

"Are you scared?" Trixie asked him, responding to one last snap from Jesús. She'd noticed how rigid Lucifer seemed, how he seemed to embody the very way that he used to respond when she'd hug him. "Don't be scared, Lucifer. She missed you. She'll be so happy to see you."

Lucifer swallowed. His sunglasses were in his pocket and when he stared at Trixie, he couldn’t help but realize that her eyes were as dark as his. And then he realized he could tell the child the truth. She probably wouldn't believe him, but she'd definitely understand him. If the child kept it up, she could have a career in therapy not unlike Linda.

Linda, he thought painfully. He missed her, too. She'd helped him figure out more about himself than he had since the beginning of time.

"I'm just uncertain about a lot of things," he told her.

"Like what?"

"Well, just to begin, I haven't any idea how I ended up here again."

"Oh," Trixie shrugged. Her phone vibrated again, from that little Jesús character. That particular child looked a bit funny. "That was me."

Lucifer's face crinkled. His frown deepened. "What do you mean it was you?"

Trixie sighed, unbuckling her seatbelt. They were far enough to hear the traffic from the freeway, but not far enough so that the sounds were overwhelming. It was just after eight p.m., and it was completely dark outside. "It's a long story."

Lucifer exhaled. The humans and their time. Even the littlest ones were obsessed with it. He shook his head. "Tell me."

She told him the full story, focusing heavily on how the boy, Jesús, had asked her to the movies. She told Lucifer what he'd been wearing the day he asked, how he had dimples, how he had held her hand the whole movie. Trixie became lost in the details, and Lucifer had to prompt her to tell him how it involved him.

"So I asked God," she shrugged in response. "I told him I didn't really know if he was real or not—like I said, Hell isn't real. But I told him I'd really like to go to the movies with Jesús." 

Lucifer kept his lips pressed in a line. She was just like the detective with this nonbeliever nonsense. Dante had believed that the entrance to hell was where all of the ambivalent people went, the agnostics. But in reality, when they died, those who didn't believe simply ceased to exist. Their consciousness overtook itself, and they became trapped in a cesspool of nothing. 

"Yes," he said, nodding. "So you've said. But how does this involve me?"

"Before I stopped talking to God, I asked him to send you back. And when my mom said yes about the movies, I knew you'd show up."

Lucifer's teeth clenched. His dad was behind this after all. If he cared as much as it seemed he did, then why didn't he get one of his siblings to take over Hell? Oh, what Lucifer would give to see Michael demoted.

Lucifer sighed. "Do you believe in Hell now?"

"Well, not really. I think God can be real without there being a Hell. Why would he send his own children there? That's not what dads are supposed to do."

Lucifer opened his mouth to speak and then closed it again. He didn't know what Trixie Decker-Espinoza was, but she had, perhaps, a whole mansion reserved for her in the Silver City. And it seemed that she held the key for why he was back in Los Angeles inside her soul.

"You're very kind, child." He cleared his throat and Trixie beamed at him again, not seeming to realize he was on the verge of tears. "The next time you talk to my father, how about tell him you'd like for me to stay here for the rest of your life?"

"I'll do it right now," Trixie promised, bending her head and closing her eyes.

Lucifer only watched her, wishing he could talk to his father with the same ease that she did. He sat back against the seat. He felt so good to be back on Earth again. To breathe in the awfully polluted air of the city—even the smog held nothing on the fumes of Hell. He could drive again, and he'd always liked driving—well driving fast. The traffic had been a bit irritating. But the tacos had more than made up for it. And Trixie too, the little human.

And Chloe was only a short walk away from him.

"Are you ready to see my mom?" Trixie asked. When Lucifer grimaced, she noticed. "She'll be nice to you Lucifer, I promise. She understands why you had to leave. Even if you won't tell the truth."

"I _always _tell the truth," he drawled, huffing. He pushed his door open and Trixie copied. Lucifer half expected her to reach for his hand like she used to do, but she didn't—she must've been too old for that. He still wasn't quite sure how children developed.

Trixie had shoved her phone in her back pocket, and she had already felt it vibrate in her pocket three times, all from Jesús. She was so sure that he would be her boyfriend soon and they'd probably end up married. He'd already promised that he'd give her the crusts of his pop tart at school on Monday—that was Trixie's favorite part.

Trixie led the way to the door and Lucifer buttoned and unbuttoned his suit jacket. It was the same one he'd been wearing just hours before leaving for Hell. He'd just simply appeared on Earth at the movie theatre beside his Camaro. And as much as it irked him that his father still took it upon himself to place him places, he couldn't deny that he was happy that he'd found the child inside the theatre.

But he longed for Lux, for a shower, for the simple delicacies of human life.

For _that. _

But he wouldn't dare bring up anything promiscuous to the detective. Certainly not tonight. And probably not tomorrow. He knew the detective was not that type of woman, and he didn't want her to hate him anymore than she already did. Maybe he'd bring it up on Monday, if all went well.

If. There were so many conditionals in the finite world.

He sighed.

They had reached the door and Trixie reached into her pocket and pulled a key from it. He raised an eyebrow at her—so the child had gotten old enough that Chloe condoned her leaving the house on her own? Trixie pushed the door open and Lucifer heard the sounds of the television.

He was so close to her that he could hardly stand it. He swallowed, his heart beating abnormally fast.

"Trixie?" Chloe called from the other room, and Lucifer almost lost it at the sound of her voice. How had he missed someone so much? What was wrong with him? Was this really what love was? "Is that you, babe?"

"Mom!" Trixie called gleefully. She seemed to forget that Lucifer stood behind her and began skipping towards her mother's voice. "Jesús kissed me! I had my first kiss! Before Becca and before Veronica! I bet I'm the first girl in my whole grade!" 

Her voice got louder with every sentence, and Lucifer would have made a snide comment about it, if Chloe hadn't stepped around the hallway and upon looking at her jumping daughter noticed that there was a man a few feet behind Trixie.

Chloe's face fell, her eyes widening, mouth falling into a frown. She was wearing pajamas, Lucifer saw. _His _pajamas. His black silk pajamas he had specially ordered from Milan twice a year.

"Lucifer?" She whispered.

He wanted to run towards her, to take her into his arms and hold her and never let her go again. To smell the green apple of her hair, the mint of her toothpaste. She was the only woman he knew over thirty who used green apple scented shampoo. He'd rifled through her shower one day when he was bored, and the detective wasn't home. Lucifer had a penchant for bathroom products, and he thought they told a lot about a person's taste. The detective used mostly store-brand products, and her green apple shampoo was the child's kind, the one that promised no tears and that would get rid of tangles. At first, he'd found it strange.

Now, standing across from her, he found it endearing.

But Chloe continued to stare at him in silence. She didn't make a move, and once he took a step forward, she remained planted in her spot. Well, Lucifer thought, at least she hadn't backed away.

Chloe turned her gaze upon Trixie, who was looking back and forth between the adults, waiting for them to say profess their love for one another. "Monkey, did Lucifer bring you home?"

"He sure did," Trixie said, smiling proudly. "He found me in the theatre, right after Jesús kissed me! My first kiss!" She said triumphantly, stomping the ground and looking up at the ceiling with a smile so bright that Chloe's own lips twitched upon seeing it.

"And where—" Chloe started, then swallowing. She had to choose her words carefully. "Where is your friend? Jesús?"

"He's with his brother." She supplied. "You know, I think he'll be my boyfriend soon. Maybe tonight even. We've been snapping ever since the movies."

Chloe felt a pang in her heart that Trixie had grown up so fast. But she felt a bigger pang that the man she loved, who had been gone for six months, was back standing right in front of her. 

Her eyes lifted from Trixie to see Lucifer, who was staring at her, eyes turned downward in concern, mouth slowly parted. Oh, all that she would give to kiss those lips again.

"Baby," Chloe said, clearing her throat. "Why don't you go take a shower?"

"I can't do that, Mom. I'm snapping Jesús."

Chloe exhaled, her eyes still on Lucifer. "Well, can you go to your room at least? I need to speak with Lucifer. Privately."

Trixie grinned, wickedly. They were going to profess how much they loved each other. She just knew it. "Okay!" she chirped. "I'll let you know when Jesús asks me to be his girlfriend." She said, wiggling her eyebrows and disappearing into her room.

"Lucifer, I—"

"Detective—"

They both stared at each other, daring the other to go first.

Chloe shook her head. "Lucifer, you've been gone for six months. I told you I loved you. And then you kissed me. And then you left."

"I know," he said, swallowing. "I can—"

"Do you even know," she sniffled. She was already crying, and she wished she could stab herself. How was she going to make it through this conversation if she was crying within the first few _sentences? _"Do you know how it feels? Do you?"

"Yes," he said, his tongue hovering over the final letter.

"Do you?" she questioned again, her hands balling into fists at her side. She laughed. "More than three years of skirting around each other and I thought finally we could be happy."

"Detective—"

The tears were rolling down her cheeks. "It just hurts so much, Lucifer! It hurts to be in front of you, to look at you, to be near you. I mean, knowing that you're going to leave again, that it'll hurt even worse now because I can look at you and see that you're coping, and you're fine. Trixie isn't even mad at you!"

Lucifer stepped forward again. He could hear Trixie laughing in the distance, but he kept his eyes trained on the detective. Her eyes were red, and she looked like an almost mirror image of what he had seen the night that he left. That image of her that he'd replayed in his head over and over and over, as he sat on the throne, looking out at his kingdom. He hated it. 

"Detective," he said, pausing for her to interrupt him. When she didn't, he swallowed and took another step towards her. He was close enough now to reach out and touch her, but he didn't dare do that. "Chloe, I've missed you more than you've missed me."

Chloe's lips parted and she drew in a loud breath. And then her hands were all over him.

She was _hitting _him.

"No, you didn't!" She glared, slapping his chest. Her hands moved into fists over the clothing, and she hit him until she no longer felt like it. And then she flattened her hands out, on his chest, so she could feel his heart beating beneath one of her palms.

"I assure you that I did," he said, softly.

And then he could take it no longer. He wrapped his arms around her and breathed in her scent. That green apple. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and as his hands roamed to her neck, where he began to run his fingers through it. Chloe was still caught at his chest, but she broke her arms free and wrapped them around his abdomen and hugged him back with all of her might.

And perhaps Lucifer would have returned to his normal self, and cheekily said something about the moment, or Chloe would have dared to kiss _him _for a change. But neither one got that far, because the front door, which both Trixie and Lucifer had neglected to lock upon entering, was suddenly kicked in.

And Chloe was too startled to even scream.


	3. Chapter 3

In her room, Trixie was dancing to _Señorita, _which was her favorite song at the moment. She'd been trying to learn the dance moves from the music video, but it was kind of hard to do on your own when you didn't have a dance partner. But she tried to do it anyway. She wasn't the worst at dancing, after all. It was actually a lot of fun and she could kind of convince herself that she was a famous dancer if she tried hard enough.

Jesús must have been taking a shower, because he hadn’t answered her in about half an hour. The last snap she'd sent him was a selfie (with the sunglasses and flower filter) telling him that she liked him. Trixie figured that Jesús was just being shy, and she _really _wanted a boyfriend before going back to school on Monday, so she decided to take the first step, and tell him herself.

It was all in line with not needing boys to take charge of the world, anyway.

The song finished, changing to the new Taylor Swift song, and Trixie laid in the middle of her bed, looking up at the ceiling. A few weeks prior to the school year, she had redecorated—she needed a more mature room for her more mature stage of life (she'd also told Chloe that she needed more mature underwear, that she couldn’t just wear the Target kind in the packs of six anymore, but Chloe hadn't given into that one). Now her room was painted a nice lilac color that she'd done mostly herself, with the help of Chloe and a ladder to reach the top of the walls. Her room at her dad's house was light blue, so they kind of matched.

Her backpack was at the foot of her bed, and she reached for it. The worst part about middle school was having homework even on the weekends.

She'd spent so long getting ready for the movies that she hadn't even looked at her list of things she had to do before Monday. _French vocab test on Monday. World War II report on Wednesday. Draw a portrait of a person for Mr. Wyatt. _There just weren't enough hours in the day. How did these teachers expect her to finish everything in time? It was almost like school was her job, she spent so much time doing stuff for it. On top of all of her assignments, she also had to figure out what future job she wanted to spend the quarter researching for her careers class.

It was an extravagant project that the sixth grade had a reputation for. You'd spend three weeks researching your job, and how to get that particular job, along with learning about salaries and how to sustain her life. There was a mock interview everyone had to do with the teacher, in front of all the other students in the class. The last part of the quarter was spent shadowing the job. The final day would find their careers class full of the working professionals the students had researched.

And Trixie Decker-Espinoza was certainly not about to tell her entire class that she wanted to be President of Mars, even if a small part of her still hoped that humanity would create a civilization there. Sometimes Trixie thought that the Earth was simply too messed up to last much longer. They would have to start over with a new planet and hopefully not mess that one up too. But even if she got over the embarrassment, it would be a newly created job and there was no one to shadow…since no humans had landed foot on Mars. Yet.

The next option was to copy Chloe and Dan.

She had once wanted to be a detective like both her parents, but that had been the old Trixie. The elementary school Trixie. This Trixie didn't want to spend her free time chasing after bad guys. She didn't want to uncover murders and be splattered by blood. Because even though she was much, much, much more mature, at twelve-years-old, Trixie still sometimes had nightmares where her parents died.

The dreams were mostly of her mom. Trixie would get a pass to go to the bathroom and find her mom's bloody, lifeless body in the middle of the hallway. And then she'd wake up screaming but Chloe wouldn't hear her, and Trixie was too old to call her into the room still, so she would just be on Instagram until the wee hours of the morning when she could make herself fall asleep again. 

But sometimes her dad would be dead too. And Trixie would be an orphan, with nowhere to go, because in her dreams, Maze never wanted her either.

So, Trixie would spend those minutes awake, half her brain on Instagram, the other half plotting what would happen to her if her parents died. She'd go stay with Grandma Penelope, probably. She would live a life of nice clothes and probably doing activities she didn't want to do. Trixie Decker-Espinoza had no desire in ever becoming an actress, that was for sure. And she certainly didn't want to live a life without either of her parents.

Maybe she'd research becoming a lawyer for the next few weeks. She'd once stayed in her dad's ex-girlfriend Charlotte's office for the day, and Charlotte was a lawyer. It was really boring, but that was back when Trixie was a kid. Now she wasn't. It seemed like a safe enough choice.

After all, no one died as a lawyer, right?

##

Lucifer spun around, the detective looking over his shoulder, and there stood Maze. _His _demon. His demon that he had left behind. She was dressed in all black, from head to toe, her hair pulled back into an elaborate braid. She simply scowled at the pair of them and then kicked the door closed behind her, walking into the kitchen.

"Trix texted me that you were back," she said, glaring over her shoulder as she opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of orange juice, slamming it on the counter. "It would've been nice if you had been the one to text me."

Lucifer's brows were furrowed, and they furrowed even more as Chloe moved away from him. She crossed her arms over her chest, now embarrassed to be seen in Lucifer's pajamas by someone who wasn't Trixie. Lucifer simply looked from her to Maze.

"I didn't know that I was going to be back," he told her, standing up straight and rebuttoning his jacket. He glared at Maze and she simply raised an eyebrow, unfazed. As happy as he was to see her, he and the detective were having a _moment._ A moment that would've turned into another moment that would've turned into another one. "Or I would have told you, I assure you."

And that he would've. Lucifer would've loved the chance to go by Lux to freshen up before finding the detective. To change into his purple silk shirt, his favorite. To have his cologne and shampoo back, to feel the excellent water pressure of his shower.

Maze picked up the orange juice and drank it straight from the bottle. "Are you back for good, then?"

Lucifer didn't miss the way that the detective's eyes moved to look at him, or the way that she automatically moved nearer to him again, as if her being in closer proximity could somehow make him stay for longer. Lucifer sighed. He opened his mouth to speak, and then sighed again. "I don't know," he answered. He stalked forward and sat down at the bar stool. "I don’t even know why I'm back."

The television was still on in the distance, playing some sort of Lifetime movie. The detective never watched Lifetime movies. Just how much had things changed since he'd been gone?

"Have you seen Amenadiel yet?" Maze questioned, drinking more of the juice. 

"I've already told you that I just got back. I haven't seen anyone but the child and now the detective."

Chloe's heart warmed. He'd come straight for her and Trixie after all. She still felt a little angry looking at him…was there really no way he couldn't have sent her a letter? Or communicated somehow with her? She wondered how long this would last.

Maze leaned forward, balancing on her forearms. She sighed. "Linda's at the hospital. I only left to come see you."

Chloe made a little sound deep in her throat, but Lucifer only stared at Maze quizzically.

"And what's wrong with her? Another baby?"

"No," Maze scowled. "She's sick with some sort of infection. I don't remember what they called it. Amenadiel's at home with the baby. They didn't want to bring him to the hospital.

Lucifer stared at her in disgust. "He's an angel baby, he won't get sick off simple hospital visits."

Maze shrugged. "You should go see them."

Chloe was still staring at Maze in concern; she would have definitely kept an eye on Charlie had she been told about what was going on. She loved the child as if he was her own blood. She flourished him with gifts anytime she went shopping, and Trixie loved him too, already asking when she would be old enough to babysit him. Charlie could crawl now and could eat very basic foods. Chloe had thought that perhaps being a half-angel baby would mean that he would grow at a quicker rate, but Charlie's development seemed average.

And Lucifer's mind was elsewhere, his brain whizzing away from anything about Linda as he thought of all the possibilities now that he was back on Earth. The food he had missed, the cars he could buy, the alcohol he could consumer. He was still confused by his situation. He needed to figure out what he was doing back, especially if his dad was behind it. There would definitely be some clue as to what his next moves should be.

But as the detective moved even closer to him, close enough for her standing body to brush against his, and asked detailed questions about Linda, Lucifer didn't want to leave. Especially not again.

"Has Lux still been running?" He asked, interrupting whatever Maze was saying as she attempted to relay Linda's symptoms to the detective.

Maze glared at him again. "Of course. Who do you think I am?"

Lucifer suddenly stood and grinned, licking his lips. "Excellent."

"Lucifer—" Chloe started.

But he was already out of the door before either of the two women could stop him. Chloe sighed and felt her heart break again at the fact that Lucifer had left so soon and so readily. She took a seat at the stool he had just vacated and stared at Maze.

"You," Maze said, rifling through the cabinets for where she kept the stash of alcohol. She found a bottle of vodka and poured it straight into a glass, pushing it across the table. "Need a drink."

##

Jesús had opened her snap twenty-two minutes before and not responded. Trixie's brows furrowed down at the screen and she contemplated throwing it against her bed. How could he have done that? Just leave her on open like that. He couldn't just kiss her and not respond to her snap like that.

Or had the kiss been bad? Maybe Jesús also felt like the kiss wasn't that great. But Trixie was just being honest. She hadn't felt fireworks go off in her stomach the way that any of the girls in TV shows did. It just felt like his lips were against hers. But maybe there was something wrong with her.

Lucifer would know the answer. He was a boy and he _definitely _knew how to talk to girls. He would know what Jesús was thinking.

And Lucifer was back!

She got up from her bed and held her phone at her side, wondering if she was going to walk in on her mom and Lucifer kissing. She didn't know if they'd done it before, but she really wished they would.

When Trixie was ten, she used to wish more than anything that her mom and dad would get back together. That she could wake up and with both of them home, that she wouldn't have all of her things spread across two houses. It was really hard to be fashionable when you could never remember which clothes were at whose house, which shoes you had where. And the traffic was often so bad that they couldn't just drive the distance any time she needed something. Only for the important stuff, like projects and school reports.

Trixie realized that some grown-ups just couldn't be with other grown-ups. And love didn't have to be forever, the way all of those little kid princess movies made it seem.

And now that Trixie was twelve, she wanted her mom to be with someone who made her really happy. She knew that Lucifer did just that.

Tiptoeing out of her room, she tried to listen for whispers or conversation, but she heard nothing. Were Lucifer and her mom _kissing? _

But her mom was in the kitchen.

With Maze.

And Lucifer was gone.

"Where's Lucifer?" Trixie frowned. She had told Maze that Lucifer was back, but she hadn't expected her to come and ruin her plan to get her mother and Lucifer together.

"He ran away," Maze drawled.

"But he just got here," Trixie said, crossing her arms. "Where did he already go?"

"He needed to go home for a bit, Monkey," Chloe said, reaching out and drawing her daughter to her, kissing her on the temple. "He'll probably be back tomorrow. Why don't you go ahead and go get ready for bed?"

Trixie's frown deepened. "But it's Saturday night. All of my friends are still up."

"Well, I'm not their mother," Chloe replied. "But go get ready for bed. It's getting late."

Trixie sighed but allowed her mother to kiss her on the forehead again. She then hugged Maze and stomped to her room, just so they'd know how much she didn't appreciate being a twelve-year-old with a bedtime.

Not that she was even remotely going to sleep. Of course not. She had places to go. People to see. Well, she had one person in particular to see, at least.

##

If Trixie had to choose one flaw in mother's parenting, it would be that she didn't understand that simply _telling_ her not to do something didn't really have the biggest effect on her. She'd snuck out to go to Lucifer's a grand total of three times, and it was getting easier by the day. Now that she had her own phone, she could call an Uber whenever she wanted. If she were her mom, she probably would've put alerts on the account.

It probably wasn't the best idea to go in random cars in Los Angeles once it was dark, but she'd never been hurt before. Most people were nice, when you really got to know them.

"Hiya," Trixie said to Benji, which was the name of the big security guard who let people in and out of Lux. There was already a long line of people outside, in sparkly dresses and crop tops.

"Trixie," he greeted, smiling down at her. He had a really deep voice, probably the deepest she'd ever heard. "Are you here to see Lucifer? He just got back."

Trixie nodded, shook hands with Benji, and then walked through the door he held open for her.

Lux was always a lot different at night than it was in the daytime. When it was still light outside, the inside just sort of looked like something out a movie scene. But as soon as it was night, it would be full of loud music, and people in pretty dresses, and plenty of dancers. Trixie's eyes widened as she walked inside, seeing the dancers on top of the ledge. Maybe one day she could dance like that.

She tried scanning the room for Lucifer, but most of the people were taller than her, and she couldn't so well in the dark. She squeezed her way through the people and up the stairs to where the elevator would take her to Lucifer's apartment. She hoped he was there. If he wasn't, she'd just wait until he got there.

The elevator dinged and opened into a room without Lucifer, but the light was on, so he'd been there at least. 

Trixie walked out, flinging her backpack onto the floor. "Lucifer?" She called. "Lucifer are you up here?"

"What the—" she heard Lucifer's muffled reply, and then moments later he appeared at the top of the steps to his bedroom. He glared at her. "What are you doing here?"

Trixie looked at him. His hair was wet and hung flat on his forehead. He had a towel wrapped around his waist. Trixie raised her eyebrows. "Wow, Lucifer. You have better abs than my gym teacher."

Lucifer walked down the steps and continued to glare at her. "Why are you here? Did you tell your mother this time?"

Trixie sighed and sat down at his piano. She expected Lucifer to tell her not to, but he seemed to be waiting for her to answer him. She sighed. "We need to talk."

"There are a lot of people I need to talk with, child. We had nearly two hours together already. What more do you need to say?"

Suddenly tears welled up in Trixie's eyes, and she wasn't sure why. "Jesús doesn't like me. I snapped him and told him that I liked him, and he opened it and didn't respond! But his score keeps going up, so I know that he's using it. And he was my first kiss! We were supposed to get married!"

And then she began to cry.

Lucifer looked at her, bewildered. He cleared his throat, and then he reached for his robe that he'd left on a chair. He put it on, and then walked around the piano and sat on the other side of the bench. He wasn't exactly sure how to deal with crying children, or crying people at all, really. Crossing his legs at the knee, he simply watched as Trixie pawed at her own eyes.

"Now, now. Child, you certainly don't have to marry every person you kiss. Or I'd be married loads of times."

Trixie sniffled. "Have you ever been married?"

"Nope."

She looked down at her hands, ringing them together. In a small voice she asked, "Do you think I'm bad at kissing? Do you think that's why he didn't snap me back?"

Lucifer coughed. Couldn't she have gone to her mother for this particular conversation? Why had she come running all the way to him to talk about this adolescent material? "I highly doubt it. What you two were doing, well, that could hardly be considered kissing."

Trixie cast her eyes upwards at him. "What was it then?"

"It was more like a peck," he said, waving a hand. "Nothing real. Otherwise I probably would've been obligated to tell your mother, wouldn't I?' he said, raising an eyebrow.

Why it didn't really feel like how she thought a kiss would feel?

"Is that why I didn't feel fireworks when he kissed me?"

Lucifer frowned at her. It was an absurd euphemism. "Perhaps."

Trixie sighed again and looked down at her hands. She put them together again, threading her fingers. Hanging her head, she muttered, "I just want him to like me. I know my mom says that it doesn't matter if boys like you, but I wanted to be the first one of my friends with a _real _boyfriend. Not one of the fake ones that happens in third grade. A grown-up boyfriend."

Lucifer uncrossed his legs and turned to look at her, placing his hands on his thighs. An idea struck him. "You know what, child, people have disliked me on general principal, since well, since the beginning of time. But look at me now," he said, gesturing to the lavish room around him. "It's not such a bad thing to be disliked, is it?"

also had caused him to have a lot of pain, and of course annoyance, to simply be disliked just because, but the child would never undergo the amount of hatred that he did.

"But you have lots of girlfriends, Lucifer," Trixie pointed out. "I don't have any boyfriends."

"I've had one girlfriend. The rest are just to, you know," he waved a hand. "Fulfill my desires."

Trixie sighed and sat with a slouched back. She didn't know why she hadn't just let Jesús stay her friend. She hadn't even had a crush on him. But now she just wanted him to like her back. "I just want him to think I'm special."

Lucifer frowned. He didn't like that she was thinking so much about it. If he tried hard enough, he could certainly see why Jesús hadn't answered her back. The child had a fear of commitment, disregarding the whole snapchatting nonsense. But Lucifer didn't like how upset Trixie seemed to be about it. Suddenly, he stood up and crossed the room, peeking out onto his balcony. The light pollution and lack of air clarity made it a little difficult to see them, but the sky was relatively clear.

"Come here, Trixie," he called.

Trixie got up and followed him, mostly because it was the first time that she could ever remember Lucifer calling her by her name.

She walked out onto the balcony. Unbeknownst to her, Lucifer was reliving his own torturous story, the last time that he was ever on this balcony.

He beckoned her forward, and they rested against the small fence. "Now, you can't see them very well here in the city, but there are lot of stars above us. They're always there, even in the daytime. They have names in a lot of different languages, and there are a lot of stories surrounding them."

"I know the Big Dipper," Trixie squinted, trying to find the familiar shape.

"Well yes," he frowned. It was such an elementary asterism; he was certain even his nephew could locate that one successfully. "But I'm going to refer to a different set of stars. Although it's certainly not too complicated, either. Do you see those stars there? The three bright ones in a row?" he asked, reaching his hand to point. "That's the belt of Orion the Hunter."

"There?' Trixie asked, pointing.

"Exactly," Lucifer said, bending down to see from the child's perspective. "Now, if you trace upward a little bit, to the right, you can see a star that's just as bright."

'There?" Trixie pointed.

"That star's called Bellatrix."

Trixie suddenly grinned, and Lucifer was delighted that his plan had worked, and that she would be crying no longer. "Like from Harry Potter? That's so cool!"

Lucifer made a face and then made a sound of deep annoyance. "I meant that it's your star, child, but _yes. _Bellatrix Lestrange is also named from this Bellatrix. There's also a stir called Sirius. Remus, too. Also, Draco Malfoy." 

But Trixie had stopped paying attention, and she beamed up at the man. "My star?"

"Well, once you get past the hooker-y of it all, Trixie could be quite a nice nickname for Bellatrix, don't you think? Why don't you tell that to your little friend, Jesús? Certainly, hasn't got a star named after him, that's for sure. Tell him Lucifer Morning_star _said so."

The Bible did have a tendency to refer to both Jesus and Lucifer as Morningstar, but that was a load of codswallop in Lucifer's opinion.

"Thanks Lucifer," she said, grinning again. She knew that he would cheer her up. He always did. She glanced behind her and saw the piano. "Could you teach me how to play the piano now?"

Lucifer sighed. "Very well, child. But wash your hands. Twice," he called after her as she ran back inside. "With the lavender handwash."

He poured himself a glass of whiskey as he waited for her to return, and then downed it all as she held her hands out for him to inspect.

He would teach her all six of the mundane notes to _Twinkle Twinkle Little Star _over and over again until she could get it perfectly, and they practiced it again and again in different keys, until the detective showed up.

And Lucifer certainly couldn't tell who the detective was angrier with—him or Trixie.


	4. Chapter 4

"Detective!" Lucifer greeted, mouth dropping and eyebrows raising. He quickly closed his mouth, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "Took you long enough to get here. Any longer and your offspring would be playing Chopin."

The detective exited the elevator and walked around the piano, ignoring Lucifer and placing her hands on Trixie's shoulders. Trixie gazed up at her, her forehead creased. "How many times have I told you not to leave the house, Trix? Anything could have happened to you."

Every single time that Trixie had left unannounced, Chloe's mind began racing. She spent her entire day examining homicides—she knew too much about what could happen to people who were in the wrong place at the wrong time.

"But it didn't," Trixie replied cheekily. The girl looked down at her lap. "Jesus left me on seen. I just wanted to talk to Lucifer."

"The heartbreak," Lucifer explained. "It's lethal. Not that I would know."

Chloe settled him with a glare over Trixie's head that had Lucifer looking down at his lap. She looked back at Trixie. "Get your things, Trixie. It's late."

Trixie got off of the piano bench and walked across the room to find her backpack, which was right where she'd thrown it.

"Detective," Lucifer began. "Might I suggest that you and Beatrice stay with me tonight? I'll take the couch, and you and I—well, you and I could, well…_talk._"

Chloe's eyes widened slightly at Lucifer's suggestion, all together surprised that he was the one to offer. She'd expected that she would have to be the one to track him down and force him to talk about it. And it was a Saturday night after all; Trixie wouldn't be in danger of not making it to school on time, and she wasn't set to be with Dan until Tuesday, anyway. Across the room, Trixie was waiting by the elevator, her backpack on, typing away on her phone.

"I don't know if that's a good idea, Lucifer."

Lucifer waved a hand. "Please, Detective. It wouldn't exactly be safe for the two of you to go roaming the streets at midnight, now would it?"

Chloe stared at him as his dark eyes flickered back and forth between hers. She had been alone later than midnight plenty of times, but she decided not to fight about it. How she longed to kiss him, to be held by him, to hear his stupid innuendos. How she longed for _that…_

Clearing her throat, she settled her gaze on Trixie. "Trixie, um, we're going to sleep over at Lucifer's tonight."

Trixie narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"It's just a bit late," Lucifer cut in. "And your mother and I need to talk."

"Oh," Trixie said, eyes lighting up. "Where do I sleep?"

Lucifer got up at once, his shoes he'd never removed slapping against the floor. He gestured with his head and Trixie followed him up the steps and to his bedroom.

Trixie had been in here once before, the first time she'd been to Lucifer's penthouse. But the bed was nicely made and looked incredibly comfortable. She kicked off her shoes and flung herself onto the bed, laughing gleefully.

Lucifer turned to go back and meet the detective, remembering that human children were prone to bedwetting, and hoping that Trixie was old enough for that to not happen. Just as he was about to go down the steps, Trixie whispered his name.

He turned around to face her.

"Be nice to her, Lucifer," Trixie said. She looked up at him, worry covering her entire face. "Make her happy again."

Lucifer's voice was caught in his throat. All he could do was nod. He gave Trixie a tightlipped smile and waited until she had gone back to looking at her phone before returning to his living room. He kicked his shoes off by the bar and then made his way to the couch, where the detective had sat down.

Chloe had her elbows balanced on her knees; her face buried in her hands. She looked so tiny, so utterly breakable, that it seemed that if he so much as touched her with his finger, she would collapse into thousands of pieces.

And the silence was deadly.

Lucifer had never felt so strange in a moment with the detective before. He took a seat beside her but with enough room so that they weren't touching and crossed his legs at the knee. "The child," he started, clearing his throat. "The child is settled down. She should sleep soon."

Chloe nodded but still didn't look up.

Lucifer wondered how much could change in six months. She still looked the same, now dressed in a blazer, her hair pulled back into a tight bun. But she was not acting the same.

"Are you alright?" he finally asked, trying to decide how to approach the topic.

Chloe continued to stay silent. It wasn't until she sniffled that Lucifer realized that she was crying, softly, and with great effort to keep Trixie from hearing in the other room. Hesitantly, Lucifer scooted the few inches between the two of wrapped an arm around her. At first, Chloe seemed to bristle at his touch, but then she fell into it, turning so that he could completely envelop her with his body.

And then she cried against his chest.

Lucifer had never really held a crying woman for so long before. He was surprised by how cathartic it felt to be with her, how it didn't seem to bother him at all. He kept his hands firmly pressed on Chloe's back, delighted to have her in his arms again. She felt so warm against him and it was as if this was exactly how they were supposed to be, exactly how it was supposed to feel sitting there. And with Chloe crying, his own eyes began to fill with tears, and Lucifer could think only of how much he loved her.

"I'm sorry," she sniffled, leaning back and looking down, at what happened to be Lucifer's lap. "I don't usually—" she coughed. "I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to be sorry for, Detective."

Lucifer put a finger under her chin, tilting her face up so that he could see the eyes he'd missed so much. He'd spent all that time in Hell hoping that he was getting the precise shade of green right in his memory—and he had. Lucifer's hand cupped her cheek and his fingers running over and over her face. Chloe leaned into his palm and they both tilted so that their bodies were flush against each other, their hearts both beating erratically, their eyes only on the other.

After what felt like a millennium, Chloe whispered, "What happens now?"

Lucifer's eyes were torn in concern. He ducked his head so that their lips were even with

one another. "This?"

But Chloe shook her head, leaning back from him, and leaving Lucifer more confused than ever. "We can't, Lucifer."

He frowned at her. "And why not?"

"Because—" Chloe took a deep breath. "Because when you leave again, it'll be that much harder." 

Lucifer knelt his head again, cupping her chin and moving her closer to him once again. Finally, Chloe moved so that she was sitting on his lap, backwards, her knees pressed into the leather of the couch. "Detective, I have no intention of ever leaving you again."

"You can't _know _that. You can't know that the demons won't come back, and you'll be forced to leave again."

"Let them," Lucifer breathed. He couldn’t care less if Dromos himself was sitting on the couch beside him at the moment. Lucifer closed the gap between the two of them.

And Chloe felt as if someone had just lit her body aflame. She struggled against him, her hands going everywhere, along his back, around his shoulders. Finally, she landed on his hair, where her fingers wound up at the nape of his neck. Lucifer moaned into her mouth as Chloe's fingers massaged the base of his skull, which caused Chloe to pull at his hair even more.

Lucifer clutched her tighter, too. He pulled her against him until their bodies were tangled into one, their limbs a tangled mess all over the couch. And across the room, atop the piano where she had left it, Chloe's phone was ringing, but they were too busy to notice.

##

"Damn it, Chloe," Dan muttered dropping his phone onto his desk where it clattered against the wood. He covered his face with his hands. It was just after midnight, he was still doing work, and Chloe had told him she would be there to help with the last case, but she'd never shown up.

"You okay, dude?" Ella Lopez asked, exiting her lab and walking towards him.

Dan looked up at her in surprise. He'd thought he was there alone. "Ella. How long have you been here?"

"I haven't left yet," Ella answered. She hopped up onto the side of his desk, her feet kicking against the side of it. "I got some dope results back from this blood found on that Burger King scene a few days ago, the type A blood reacts differently than the type O positive. I think it has to do with the platelets or something. Really interesting. I also have type A blood, so I’m wondering if it's connected to live blood or only—"

"Ella," he interrupted. "As fascinating as this all is, I've just gotten news of an awful case." Wordlessly, he handed over the folder.

Ella looked at him, brows knitted in concern, as she took it from him. Her mouth dropped in horror as she read over the intricate details of the crime.

"The youngest goes to Trixie's school," Dan continued. "He's in her grade. They don't live too far from Chloe. I just wanted to call and make sure they're okay before heading over to the scene."

Ella was choked up looking down at the description, her eyes pooling with tears. The worst part of her job was having to deal with crimes against children; she was sensitive enough without having such utter cruelty forced upon her. She hated seeing how bad the world could be and knowing that this had happened mere streets over from where Trixie was made her reach up and cover her mouth.

"And the parents?" She choked.

"The whole family. It's a full family homicide. We haven't had one of these in forever." He shook his head then picked up his phone, dialing Chloe again. Yet another time he was met with voicemail. "And Chloe won't answer me."

Ella looked down at her watch. "It's so late. She's probably asleep. She has Trix, too."

Dan shook his head. He got to his feet, shoving both his phone and wallet into his pockets. "Chloe always keeps her phone on. No, something is wrong. I'm going to ride over and check."

Ella watched him. "You won't be able to get through the streets. They'll be closed off."

"I know a back way," he muttered. Dan walked the length of the room and stood in front of the elevator. He turned to face her. "You coming?"

Ella stared at him. Finally, she sighed and hopped down, crossing the room and following after him. It wasn't her job, but she needed to make sure Chloe and Trixie were alright as much as Dan did.

##

Chloe had left the couch twice since the kiss with Lucifer—the first for a quick trip to the bathroom, and the second to check on Trixie. She stood in the doorway watching her sleeping daughter. Twelve years had gone by so quickly. When she was sleeping, Trixie still looked so young, so carefree, so happy. Trixie was in the middle of the bed, sprawled out so much that her tiny body nearly took up the entire length of the mattress.

"What did Trixie talk to you about?" Chloe asked quietly as she walked back towards Lucifer. He held his arms open for her and she fell back into them.

Lucifer held her tightly again, so that her face was pressed against his chest. Her ponytail was so misshapen, but Lucifer didn't care, running his hands over her scalp anyway. "I'm not an expert on adolescence, Detective, but I do believe that telling you would betray your offspring's faith in me."

Despite herself, Chloe smiled. It was heartwarming to see Lucifer so concentrated on Trixie. But then she realized their current predicament and quickly frowned. "Lucifer, that night you left, you said that Hell must have a ruler."

"It must."

Chloe's frown deepened. "But you just said you have no intention of ever leaving again."

Lucifer sighed. He shifted so that they were facing each other again—Chloe's legs splayed across his laps, his hands falling absentmindedly to her knees. "Detective, I haven't the faintest idea how I ended up here again. All I know is your offspring _prayed _to my _father _and I opened my eyes and was here. I'm clearly not one to put faith into that podium-talk plan of his, but he's the one who sent me to Hell in the first place. If he's all-powerful, then he can deal with the consequences."

Chloe gasped. "But Lucifer, the demons?"

Lucifer shrugged. "He can deal with those too. Forgive me for suggesting it, Detective, but I do believe my father _wants _me here, and it looks as though this time it might be for my own benefit to do whatever it is that he wants."

Chloe swallowed and looked down at her lap. It was late, very late, and she was tired. She was emotional and overwhelmed, and she didn't really remember how to compartmentalize anything. Slowly, she reached forward and took Lucifer's hand, intertwining their fingers together. Her eyes flickered to meet his, which hadn't left her face.

"But isn't that against who you are—doing what your father wishes? Won't that change you?"

Lucifer smiled. "Change is inevitable, my dear. And I'd change anything for you."

Chloe's heart left from her chest then and might as well have been prancing around the room.

##

There was soft pop music playing in the background.

"Hablas español?" Ella asked Dan from the passenger side. Her knees were pulled up to her chest and she was staring out of the window. Even in the middle of the night, the LA traffic was horrendous.

"Un poquito," Dan answered, with a very strong American accent. "My parents were from Mexico and didn't want their children to experience the hardships of not knowing a language, so we were immersed in English from the very beginning." 

"At the cost of culture," Ella said, turning to face him. "My parents only speak Spanish. We didn't get much of a choice."

Dan drummed on the steering wheel as he waited for the light to change. "It worked out in your benefit, though. Now you're bilingual."

"I can speak some French too," she grinned. "I want to learn Russian one day."

"Hey, all the power to you," Dan answered, leaning heavily on the gas as they took off through the intersection. "We're going to be so late."

"Don't worry, Dan," Ella said, reaching over and patting Dan on the shoulder. "Chloe's good with a gun, she'd bang bang those bitches in no time at all. Give her some credit."

"It's not Chloe I'm worried about. It's Trixie." Dan shook his head, changing lanes. "She keeps her window open a lot. And this kid was her age…"

Ella nodded, frowned. She took a deep breath. "Padre nuestro, que estás en el cielo, santificado sea tu nombre. Venga tu reino, hágase tu voluntad, en la tierra como en el cielo. Danos hoy el pan de este día y perdona nuestras deudas como nosotros perdonamos nuestros deudores y no nos dejes caer en al tentación, sino que líbranos del malo. Amen."

"Sounds familiar," Dan said, finally turning into Chloe's neighborhood. He'd gone a back way to avoid all of the police cars. It had taken them an extra ten minutes, but now as he turned in, the neighborhood was overwhelmingly silent and just a bit eerie.

"I pray in Spanish when I need to pray extra hard," Ella replied, shrugging. "I just feel like the Big Guy hears you better in your first language." 

Dan laughed even though he was becoming increasingly more and more anxious as they got closer to Chloe's. His entire body was shaking, and all he could think about was how it had felt to learn that Charlotte was dead.

He pulled to a stop near Chloe's apartment, and the pair of them got out in sync. He looked around the parking lot, trying to get a glimpse of Chloe's car.

"Uh, Dan? I don’t think her car is here."

Dan nodded, his hand on top of his gun in his holster. "Let's check the house for signs of confrontation. Can you cover my six?"

Ella looked at him, blinking. "Can I what?"

Dan sighed, forgetting that Ella wasn't used to this particular line of duty. "Just stand behind me."

"You got it, big dude." She beat her fist against her chest. "I got your six." 

Dan nodded and began creeping towards the entrance to Chloe's. There didn't seen to me another living soul in the proximity. But just because he couldn’t see anyone, didn't mean that there wasn't.

He crept up onto the porch, vaguely aware of the sounds of Ella's feet behind him. The front door was closed and upon examination, locked. He took his keychain out of his pocket and unlocked it.

"Woah, woah, dude," Ella said, standing on her tiptoes to see over his shoulder. "Should we really be going inside right now? What if Chloe's asleep?"

Dan shook his head and turned the knob, pushing it open. He'd glanced down and saw a shoe print on it. "Look," he said pointing. "Someone forced their way inside."

"Or, Trix has been practicing martial arts," she said, shrugging. "It looks pretty tiny."

Dan only sighed, walking into the apartment. Ella followed close behind him, and Dan turned on lights as he went. "Chloe's not here," he said. "She's a light sleeper. Would have heard us."

But Trixie's door was open. Dan kept his hand on his gun still and walked through the door. It was there that he discovered a notebook on Trixie's bed, with a letter in handwriting that was already much better than his own.

He sighed. "Looks like we're going to Lucifer's."

Ella's eyes widened and she looked delighted. "Luce is back? No way!"

And even if Ella had known that there was someone watching them from the parking lot, it couldn't have put a damper on her mood at the thought of seeing Lucifer after six long months.

But Dan really should have remembered to lock the door. 


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi hi! Sorry it's been a few days. I just finished moving and as a result I think this chapter is kind of choppy...I had to write it in segments because I've had limited access to wifi and typically I like to rewatch scenes for inspiration/refresh on the characters's mannerisms (and I haven't been able to do that in over a week now lol). Also apologies if there are typos, I'm heading to dinner but wanted to post this before I leave! Please please please review and let me know what you think, even if you hate it or think it's badly written, anything will help! I'm open to all feedback! I hope you're all having lovely days :)

All her life, Chloe had secretly wanted to be loved the same way all of her friends at school did. She spent her playground days scoffing as her friends pranced around having pretend weddings, never quite got into the middle school makeup stage, and didn't have much of a romantic life at all up until Hot Tub High School. But even the movie hadn't brought much romance—it was all sex, which to be fair, as a teenager, Chloe had a difficult time telling the difference between the two. And then came Dan. He had been that love for her, for a while at least. The kind where she felt flurries deep in her belly and woke up in the middle of the night and wrapped herself around him. He'd played a crucial part in giving her Trixie, which was Chloe's greatest love of all. But then Lucifer had come along, showing her that the way to a man's heart might really be physicality, but that it didn't mean that she had to always be the one who gave in first. In fact, a real love, the ones she used to spend hours telling Trixie about, might be willing to put her first.

"I love you," she said softly into Lucifer's ear.

They'd ceased kissing and were now sitting on the floor of Lucifer's balcony, looking out. You could no longer see the stars—the smog and clouds had taken them over—and it was mighty cold—Lucifer had wrapped a blanket around the two of them; it got cold in the desert at night. Their shoulders were touching, and it was well into the early hours of the morning. Chloe had to work in the morning, but truthfully, she didn't care. There were still things that they needed to discuss and she was more than happy to just continue sitting beside him.

"And I, you," Lucifer replied, just as softly. He reached for her hand under the blanket and intertwined their fingers.

Chloe ran the tip of her index finger over the onyx ring that Lucifer always wore. "What does your ring mean?"

Lucifer pulled their hands from beneath the blanket, keeping them clasped together as he examined the stone. "Would you like to try it on?"

Chloe regarded him suspiciously, completely aware that he had avoided her question. She allowed Lucifer to slide his ring off and onto her thumb, where it still seemed to be loose.

"Hm," Lucifer tilted his head, examining how the black contrasted with the skin. The detective had tiny hands which were not good for the piano; it explained her lack of talent. "It looks a lot better on my hand, doesn't it?"

Chloe hit his chest with the back of her hand, a laugh in her throat. Lucifer reached over and took the ring back, twisting it back onto his middle finger. Then, he reached down and tangled their hands together again. Lucifer's hands were large and warm, and she'd never realized just how gratifying it could be to sit linked with someone. A way below they could hear the traffic bustling about and even though she knew the next day with no sleep was bound to be a whirlwind, she was so happy to bask in the fact that she had Lucifer alone for a few more hours.

"I can't believe that it's worked out," Chloe said, looking up at the sky above them.

Lucifer looked down at her. "What exactly are you referring to, Detective?"

"All that had to happen for us to be in this moment. I'm so happy, Lucifer."

Chloe wasn't looking at him, so she couldn't see the way that he frowned. Lucifer was happy, too, but it was a strange sort of happy. He felt at ease, comfortable. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to be. He was just himself for once, and then he groaned.

Chloe frowned up at him. "What?"

Lucifer let go of her hand and crossed his arms over his chest, sitting back against the door. "I know this is rather…petulant of me, but it appears that all of my efforts to have my own freedom have been for naught. I'm happier now than I've ever been before."

A car below beeped its horn long and slow, which reminded Chloe more of what it sounded like in New York City than LA. "How do people look in Heaven?"

His eyes were wide as he looked down at her and Lucifer's heart was filled with the strangest sensation. He felt like the first time he had ever learned to fly, as a child, when everything just seemed blissful and perfect.

He cleared his throat. "In case you're forgetting, I haven't been back since the humans arrived." Chloe's face turned scarlet. It was so difficult to keep everything straight in her head. Lucifer noticed her hesitation and frowned. "Why is it you ask?"

She took a deep breath. "I was just wondering…about you and me, and the future. Surely when I die, well, I mean you're immortal…"

"I haven't the faintest idea of what the humans get up to up there. But at least in Hell, you appear at your age of prime. The body is but a vessel after all, Detective."

Chloe felt goosebumps line her back and she shifted so that her body overlapped more with Lucifer's. "And what's he like?"

A frown appeared on his face once more. "Who's he, Detective?"

"You know, your…father. God. What's it like to be around him?"

Lucifer's entire body stiffened. "He's quite difficult to understand," he said coldly. "I believe you humans have various metaphors for it. Why don't you read some of those?"

Chloe glared at him. This was one of the things that she utterly hated about Lucifer. How most of the time he would talk of nothing but himself, but the other half of the time he would deflect any and all questions about himself. She stood up and brushed the back of her pants off, leaving the blanket to fall back down.

"I wanted to hear how you felt about him, Lucifer," she snapped. "I wanted you to feel like you could talk about your family as if they were normal."

"My family isn't normal, Detective," Lucifer replied back, just as icily.

Chloe settled him with another look before she opened the door with as much force as she could muster.

Lucifer stared after her from the balcony, through the glass, confused as ever. He didn't like to talk about his dad, and while he knew his reaction was probably not the best, he didn't know how to address it.

Perhaps this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought it would be.

He needed to talk with Linda.

##

Across the city in a twelve-story hospital was Linda, who was trying not to move her arm as a nurse struggled to find her vein again. She leaned her head back against the pillow, looking up at the ceiling. Her glasses were across the room and out of her reach, so she squinted up at the florescent lights, thinking that nothing that bright should ever be legal at three in the morning around people who desperately should be sleeping. The last time she'd dealt with lights that bright had been when she was in labor, and well, she was in labor so there were plenty of other things bothering her besides too bright lights.

"I'll be back later, do you need anything?" the nurse asked. She threw an alcohol swab into the trash can—which was not exactly hygienic—and when Linda shook her head, the nurse closed the door behind her.

Moments later the door was swung open by Amenadiel. Linda gaped at him; her eyebrows raised. It was three in the morning and he had already been by just hours before.

"Where's Charlie?" Linda asked as he sunk into the chair beside her bed.

"He's with Mazikeen." Amenadiel put both feet flat on the floor and balanced his elbows on his knees. He took a deep breath. "Luci's back."

Linda's brows furrowed and her mouth dropped even further. "What?"

"Yeah," Amenadiel said, shaking his head. "I haven't seen him yet."

"But what's he doing back? The demons will come back. Charlie—" she struggled to sit up, reaching for the button that would lift up the bed.

"Maze is with him. She would never let anything happen to him." Amenadiel settled. "How are you feeling?"

But Linda wasn't pacified. Her blood was pulsing faster than ever, the monitor beside her bed displaying how quickly her heart rate began to accelerate. All she could think about was how it felt the last time that Charlie had gone missing. How helpless and paralyzed and utterly excruciating it was to not be able to protect your own child, to not be able to do anything to hold him, and to think that you would never see him again.

Amenadiel's eyes widened and he leaned towards her, taking his hand in his. "He's fine, Linda. I'll be back with him shortly. I just came to check up on you."

"Please go back to him," Linda choked. She was almost hyperventilating just thinking about all that could happen.

Amenadiel stood to his full height. "Alright, alright. I'll go back. Try and get some rest, okay?"

Linda closed her eyes and did her best to calm down. She still couldn't see—everything was blurry. But she felt Amenadiel clutch her hand once more and release it, and then she watched his shape retreat through the same door as the nurse.

She didn't calm down until he'd sent her a photo of a sleeping Charlie against his chest. And then she closed her eyes and wondering if she should start praying for her baby's safety. It was his grandfather, after all.

##

"What are you going to tell the child?" Lucifer asked Chloe once Dan and Ella had both left his penthouse. In fact, he'd only waited until the elevator doors closed to ask.

Both of them had been surprised when the bell had dinged and both Dan and Ella had ambled out of the elevator. But neither of them had been as surprised as Dan to find Chloe and Lucifer kissing again—the slight disagreement the pair had just minutes before already forgotten as they got swept up in each other in ways that had been completely impossible. Ella had, understandably, clung to Lucifer and not let him go for several minutes. Lucifer hadn't minded—much.

"I'm not sure," she said. She moaned, covering her face, tears already pricking at her eyes. "This is awful. Her first kiss, her first date. I don't know how to even tell her."

Lucifer stretched and put his arm around her. He was pleased, despite the circumstances, at how the detective's body molded to fit his. It was becoming easier to console her. He wandered what Linda would say about it.

"To be fair," he said thoughtfully. "It's quite poetic, isn't it? The child's name is Jesús, after all."

Chloe's head snapped to look up at him, her eyes rimmed in red. "Lucifer, this is Trixie's friend."

"Certainly looked like more than friends to me, Detective. I'm not quite sure how soon human adolescents procreate, but it might be time to have the talk with her. Lest you want any more offspring running around."

"Lucifer!" Chloe shouted, angry now. She worked to lower her voice, remembering that Trixie was just in the other room, and that Lucifer's penthouse was an open floor-plan. Months away from him had led her to forget this part of his particular nature—the part where he often forgot about the fact that they were working with living human beings. "Can you just focus for a moment? He died a few hours after being with Trixie. Trixie could have died. My daughter. My daughter could have—" she interrupted herself and began sobbing.

Lucifer frowned and pulled her even closer to his chest, wrapping his arms tighter. "Your child's fine," he murmured, elated as she snuggled deeper into his chest. "She's right in there. If we listen hard enough, we can hear her snoring."

"But this is going to hurt her so much, Lucifer," she choked. She was already emotional due to not having slept, but now she absolutely wouldn't be able to sleep anymore. And she was going to have to work because she couldn't leave a case with her daughter's friend untouched. It was so unfortunate how fast time changed, how just hours before she had finally been reunited with Lucifer, had him right next to her for the first time in months. And now everything had changed so quickly. Life, it seemed, would never allow her to be contently happy without something coming and messing things up again.

One of the hardest parts of being a parent were times like this. Times when the real world showed its colors and you could do nothing at all to protect your kid. You just had to teach them to protect themselves from all that could be out there, from all that was out there.

And if a lack of snapchat had broken Trixie's heart, then the fact that there would never be a snapchat was going to be detrimental.

Lucifer rubbed his fingers along the side of her arm. "Now, now. They'll see each other again."

"Lucifer—"

"There are no children in Hell, Detective. That's why I don't like them."

Chloe started to cry again, burying her face fully in Lucifer's chest. He grimaced, but then held her tighter.

##

When Trixie's eyes opened, it was because the sun was directly streaming through the window into her face. She squinted and rolled over onto her other side, burrowing herself deeper into the pillow, nuzzling her cheek against the soft fabric. She reached for her phone, which was on eight percent because she hadn't remembered to bring her charger with her when she was trekking across the city to Lucifer's. Stretching, she began to read over all of the notifications she had received while sleeping. Texts, snapchat, Instagram—a new game she'd downloaded that kept reminding her to reach the next level.

And none of them were from Jesús. Had she really messed up that much? Were you really not supposed to tell boys you liked them? She was so confused.

And it made her feel sad all over again.

Climbing out of the bed, she also wished that she'd remembered to bring her toothbrush. Now she didn't have clean teeth or a boyfriend. Maybe Jesús hadn't messaged her back because her breath had been bad even then.

She trudged into Lucifer's main room, following the sounds of someone cooking. The whole area seemed to smell of breakfast time. Her mom was seated at the bar stool, her head in her hands. Lucifer was at the stove.

Lucifer caught her eye and grinned at her, holding up a frying pan. "I heard you like breakfast, urchin. Just wait till you taste the Devil's eggs."

Chloe turned around to see Trixie standing there. She held her arms out for her and Trixie walked towards her, resting against her. Even though she was in middle school now, she still loved spending mornings with her mother. She was always warm and safe next to her—and loving her mom was so different from loving her dad.

And this morning was even better because Lucifer was there. She looked up and watched him cook happily—forgetting her anguish and rejoicing in the fact that he was there.

Trixie pulled away from her mother and sat next to her, leaning up on her forearms. Her hair was in a mess and Lucifer eyed her as he handed her a plate with an omelet, just before putting one in front of Chloe.

"There's an extra pack of toothbrushes under my sink. An er, hairbrush too," he told her. He'd had them ever since Eve stayed with him for that whole fiasco. Speaking of Eve, he would need to figure out what she was up to. He would question Maze first, he supposed. Once he'd had the chance to finally sit down with her and talk to her about everything that had changed in the past six months. Although he had definitely missed the detective the most, he'd missed his Maze a lot, too.

Trixie nodded and hopped down from the chair. She wanted to brush her teeth and fix her hair and then maybe, if she was up to it, she would try snapchatting him again. Maybe she should tell him that she was sorry for maybe having offended him?

Lucifer waited until Trixie was out of earshot to lean down and look Chloe in the eye. "You just have to tell her Detective. Rip off the band-aid or whatever the saying is that people say so often."

"It's not that easy, Lucifer," Chloe sighed.

"I could tell her," he shrugged. "It doesn't make a difference to me."

"She's twelve, Lucifer. Twelve. And her first boyfriend is dead!"

"He wasn't her boyfriend," Lucifer said automatically. "They only kissed. She and I talked about it in detail last night."

Chloe just stared at Lucifer until Trixie came back into the room, her hair pulled back into a neater ponytail and her mouth minty and fresh. She gave them both a look as she sat back down, picking up her fork—Trixie was a mastermind at noticing vibes.

"What's going on?" she asked.

"Honey, something bad has happened," Chloe said, turning to face Trixie. "Something really bad."

Trixie sighed and looked at Lucifer. "Are you leaving again?"

Lucifer frowned. "No. At least, not if I can help it."

Trixie smiled and turned back to her mother. "Then what is it? Is Dad okay?"

"He's fine," Chloe assured. She closed her eyes for a moment, trying to figure out how to best break the news. Trixie was going to remember this moment over and over again, for the rest of her life, the same way that Chloe's dad's death was solidified into her own memory. It was one of the worst feelings in the world, if not the worst, to know that you were never going to see someone again. "This is about Jesús, monkey."

Trixie's eyes widened. Her blood started pumping. Had he somehow told everyone something about her? Did her mom know before she did? Out of habit, Trixie hit her phone to see if he had sent her any sort of explanation.

There was nothing.

"Last night, um," Chloe stammered; she glanced at Lucifer who was looking at her with as much force as Trixie, almost as if he didn't know what she was going to say either. "You know how I investigate a lot of murders? With your dad?"

Trixie's eyes widened. "Is Jesús okay?"

Chloe locked eyes with her daughter, then sighed. Why couldn't Dan have been the one to do this? Why was it always her? She took a deep breath, and then plowed through it. "Last night, monkey, while Jesus was at home with his family, a man came in and killed them all."

Trixie's face was expressionless and then it suddenly wasn't; she wrinkled her nose and furrowed her brows. "Jesús is…dead?"

Chloe frowned and nodded, her eyes searching her daughter's face for any sort of indication of her reaction. She knew from earlier years, when she was a regular officer on the force, that telling someone their loved one was dead could have an array of reactions.

But Trixie only continued to frown.

"And a man killed his whole family?" Trixie squeaked. "Did they find him?"

"Not yet, monkey. But we will," she promised. Normally she hated working on Sundays and weekends because they were usually her uninterrupted time with Trixie, but this was different. "I'm going into work in a few minutes and I'm going to find the man who did this."

Trixie's fork clattered onto the plate, where her omelet was still untouched. She stood up and started backing away from both her mother and Lucifer, ignoring the fact that both of them had worrying looks on their faces. "I have to go to the bathroom."

Lucifer frowned. "You just—" But Chloe slapped him on the arm and he closed his mouth. Once Trixie had bolted out of the room completely, Lucifer's eyes shifted to the detective. "I feel as though she took that better than she should have."

Chloe shook her head. "She hasn't processed it yet." Standing up, she pushed the omelet aside. "I need to go home and change so I can go to work."

Lucifer frowned. "I'm not ready yet. You haven't eaten anything. Your child—"

"You're not coming with me today, Lucifer," Chloe said firmly. She pushed the button on the elevator and reached for her purse. "Please stay with Trixie. I'll be back as soon as I can."

Lucifer furrowed his eyebrows. "Detective—"

But she had already gotten into the elevator and the doors were already closing. Lucifer felt his heart drop at watching her go, feeling for the first time a sense of dread that she was out of his sight and feeling a peculiar sensation about the fact that she was heading off to find a murderer who had killed the entire family of one of her offspring's friends.

And then it hit him.

Lucifer had appeared outside of the theatre where Trixie and Jesús were. Hours before, it seemed, that the child had been killed. He had interrupted them, in fact. Had he not, then Trixie could have been somewhere with the two of them when this killer had struck. Perhaps the Detective did have a reason to be concerned for her offspring.

He stared off in the direction of his bedroom. Had his father intended for him to do something about this? Was he the reason that Trixie hadn't been killed?

And just how was he meant to deal with a newly grieving twelve-year-old?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Hiiii! Thank you all so much for reading! The next few weeks are going to be particularly difficult for me to find time to write—I'm starting a new job, have my own writing projects, and also am starting a short story class soon—but I'm going to when I can! Please let me know what you think or if you have any suggestions—every time I get a notification it gives me motivation to write and I can get a chapter done quicker! :) As always, I hope you're all doing well! 
> 
> Also, the two lyrics in this chapter are from Taylor Swift's song "False God" off of her new album.

Death and grieving were difficult concepts for Lucifer, an eternal being, to understand. Lucifer had rarely met humans that he cared enough about to feel any type of way about their soul crossing the threshold—the exception being, of course, those whom he had met within the past few years. He rarely felt anything for his brother Uriel anymore, and even that was saying something. The anguish he'd felt over that one had lasted longer than any anguish he'd ever felt before. Well, with that exception being the fact that his father had thrown him quite literally away.

He listened to Trixie crying in the bathroom and kept his feet firmly rooted to the ground.

Just why had the detective assumed that he was the one most qualified to deal with her grieving offspring? For humans, when someone died, they ceased to exist. For Lucifer, it just meant they had ceased existing in that particular place. He wished he could find a way to explain to the child that her little friend's death was nothing more than a transition—nothing more than if he had fallen asleep in one place and woken up in another. But for humans the time that passed in between their birth and death was all that they experienced, so it was all that they knew. For Trixie, the time until she'd see her friend again would feel like an eternity. For Jesús to die so quickly in Trixie's lifetime meant that she would live forever without him.

Lucifer sighed as the child's cries got louder and finally, he gave in. He headed off towards his bathroom.

"Uh, Beatrice?" He said, knocking thrice on the door. The child continued to cry beyond the door. "Let me in, please. I've been ordered to deal with you."

He heard her crying stop and then the door unlocked. Lucifer immediately turned the doorknob and saw the child curled up by his sink, her knees pulled up to her chest, her face entirely red and splotchy.

"He didn't answer my snapchat back, Lucifer," she said, and then she began to cry again, burying her face in her knees.

Lucifer stared down at her from the doorway. His bathroom was impeccably decorated—he'd spent more money on it than any room in the house. It was a wonderous room for pleasure. The floor was black marble and he could see his reflection as he looked down at the child. He could saw how utterly confused—and good-looking—he looked, even after having no sleep the night before.

"Er, Beatrice," Lucifer began, his hands at fists at his sides, his nails sticking to his palm. "Trixie. This isn't as awful as you think it is."

Trixie looked up at him, tears still running down her face. She raised one eyebrow and gave him the look that Lucifer had actually come to know quite well. The one that indicated that Trixie thought that he was an idiot.

Sighing, Lucifer answered by sitting on the edge of his tub. "Look, this really isn't as permanent as it feels."

Trixie only stared at him.

Lucifer frowned. Then he sighed.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, child," he said, stretching his legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankle. "I know you've gotten into this nonsensical stage of development where you've begun to think of the world differently, which I've been told is normal, but you just have to take my word for it. I'm the Devil, I ruled over Hell since before the beginning of your kind, and your little, friend is in the Silver City. Er. Heaven. You will see him again."

Trixie just stared at him. She glared at him. "Mr. Wyatt said that Heaven and Hell are myths when we were looking at that Michelangelo painting."

Lucifer raised his eyebrow. "I haven't the faintest idea of who that is, but he seems incredibly dull."

"You're really the Devil?" Trixie squinted at him.

"Yes."

"You were really in Hell?"

"Yes."

Trixie tilted her head. "Is it cold or warm there?"

"A little of both, depending. The weather is altogether a bit dim, to tell you the truth. Not the most important feature."

Trixie stared at him and he stared back at her for a very long time. Finally, she crossed her arms. Lucifer really wished he knew what she was thinking. "Prove it."

Lucifer blinked. "What?"

"Take me to Hell."

"I can't—I'm not—" he blubbered. "You can't go to Hell, Beatrice. Mortals can't survive the threshold and you're still young enough that you'd go straight to the Silver City."

She continued to eye him. "But how am I supposed to know that you're telling the truth?"

Lucifer wouldn't dare show her anything remotely otherworldly. Lest he send her into some sort of psychological fit for the Detective to deal with when she returned. Linda. He really needed to talk with Linda. She would know what to do with this breakthrough.

"Well, that's just it, isn't it? You'll just have to trust me. I believe you call it a leap of faith. You prayed to my dad, after all. And that's why I'm here."

Trixie gave a long sigh and sat back against the wall. Lucifer was expecting her to argue or to say anything at all, but Trixie didn't say a word. His mind was whizzing at what had just happened, at how easy she had just believed him. Perhaps, despite how quickly she was aging, she was still childish enough to believe whatever he said.

Her voice was quiet. "Does that mean you're evil?"

"I'm not—" he swallowed. Of course she would think that; she'd been taught her entire life to equate him with evil. It was in the word Devil, for crying out loud. He cleared his throat. "I'm not evil."

A while ago, he might not have even believed himself. But times were changing. He was changing, just as he'd told the detective. After all, there was a reason he was brought back to Earth. And now he strongly suspected his roll had been reversed and he was meant to be some sort of savior—the jokes that the believers could make that they didn't even know.

Trixie played with the cabinet door, opening and closing it again and again, and watched Lucifer curiously. Her dark eyes were still rimmed and red, and Lucifer looked at her, thinking about how peculiar it was that she had such dark eyes while the detective didn't.

"Then who makes bad things happen, Lucifer? Who makes people die?"

Lucifer stared at her, his eyebrows knitted together, his face contorted in pain. Trixie continued fidgeting, opening and closing the door. Lucifer was relieved that she had stopped crying. But he didn't even think as he rose from the edge of the tub, crossed the feet in between them, and sat down on the floor right next to Trixie.

"I'm afraid that's a long and complicated answer, child."

And beside her, Lucifer sat on the bathroom floor, which he had never done before, and tried, for the first time ever, to imagine what was going on inside Trixie's head.

Then, inside his own head, Lucifer realized something. The boy's family had been murdered only hours after Lucifer had arrived back on the planet—hours after he had met him. That put the time of death just after Lucifer had left the neighborhood to get back to Lux. What if the entire incident had more to do than him saving Trixie? What if this was an entire plot set in motion to not only bring Lucifer back, but to cause his destruction?

And then he realized something else.

The detective was heading back to the neighborhood where the family had been killed, completely alone.

##

Even though it was early Sunday morning, LA traffic was still horrendous. Lux was closer to downtown, so even though Chloe probably lived only fifteen minutes away, it took her about an hour to get there. And that morning, she had absolutely no patience for the number of cars around her. She didn't care if they were on the way to visit old grandparents in the nursing home or to the nursery at the hospital, she needed them out of her way.

She had cried twice in the twelve minutes since she'd left Lucifer's. The first had been as soon as she'd walked out of the door, keeping her head down to avoid anybody seeing her—especially the non-ending stream of morning runners in bright clothing who only made her feel worse. The second time had been loud and ugly, as she'd turned off of Sunset and gotten trapped in even more traffic. There was a tour bus to her left and she hated her life in that moment—thinking about how many people came to visit Los Angeles when there was so many bad things that happened.

She gazed up at the double decker red bus and was alarmed by how much she wanted to stick her head out of the window and yell at them to leave and go home, to take their children far away. That no one was safe in this so-called City of Angels.

You could be best friends with the devil himself, well, more than best friends with the devil himself, and it wouldn't even be him who was causing the problems. In those six months that Lucifer had been gone, she had thought more than once about human accountability. About just how often humans blamed the devil, bad karma, others, for their wrongdoings, instead of realizing that they were to blame.

And why couldn't she just be happy? Why was there always something else to deal with as soon as things calmed down?

Seeing Lucifer again, hugging him, touching him, kissing him, had made her feel complete again. Even though she knew it couldn't possibly be long-term no matter how much Lucifer assured her that it was, with him, she was happy.

But telling Trixie that her friend was dead had taken that all away. It was by far the worst experience she'd had as a parent. And leaving her after telling her was almost as bad—the only thing that helped was that Lucifer was there with her.

Though Chloe was well-acquainted with death and grief, there was nothing she could do to make her child's soul feel better. There was no quick cold-fix like medicine or type of cookie that would repair the soul.

Chloe took a deep breath and began to edge her way through the traffic. It was stop and go like so many mornings. Why did Lucifer have to live in tourist central? She knew it was good for Lux's business, but still—it made her life a lot harder. She drummed her fingers along the steering wheel and made a to-do list inside her head. Go home and change into work-appropriate attire. Her favorite jeans were in the dryer—she'd wear those; they'd make the day slightly better. Bring work laptop and notes. Go to the Mendez house and do site investigation.

Her phone began to ring, and she fumbled with it before answering. Her headset was at home. It was Dan.

"Chloe. Where are you?"

"Figueroa. Traffic's awful."

"Did you tell Trixie?"

Finally, there was a slight break in the traffic, and Chloe was able to change lanes and go full speed again. "She's okay. Ran out of the room crying. Lucifer's with her now."

She heard Dan sigh. "Are you sure that's who she needs right now?"

"I'm on the way back to my house now to change and then I'm going straight to the scene."

"Trixie needs—"

"What Trixie needs," she cut him off. "Is for us to find out who did this to her friend. We have to make this better, Dan. She could have been the one who died."

"Only because you let her go off with him alone!" Dan exploded. Chloe flinched. "She's twelve, Chloe. Too young to be alone at the movies. That could be her dead right now!"

And just like that, her anger flared up again. Just as she was about to have a go at him, to tell him how wrong he was to bring that up right now, she felt compelled to do something else. She was exhausted. Taking her phone from her ear, she pressed the end button just as Dan was in the middle of another monologue and turned her phone all the way off.

She tossed it into the passenger seat and put the radio all the way up. Letting the pop station Trixie loved to go as loud as she could handle it, she zoomed towards her house.

She would not cry again that morning. She'd spent the better half of six months crying—there wasn't time for anymore and quite frankly, she didn't have the energy anymore.

There were places to be and things to do.

She had a murder to investigate. A murder that felt like none of the others.

And when she reached her house and opened the door, it struck her as strange that it was unlocked. But she figured that she must have just forgotten to lock it when she was chasing after Trixie in a hurry the night before.

##

"Lucifer, where are we going?" Trixie called. He'd kicked her out of the bathroom, and she was sitting on the edge of his bed, feeling like she was going to cry again.

Lucifer was hurrying to get dressed. He was throwing his bottles across the room, working product into his hair and moisturizer deep into his skin. He had already tried calling the detective twice and neither time she'd answered. Lucifer was panicking in a way that felt incredibly similar to the time that the demons had kidnapped Charlie. Except this time, he kept the detective's offspring on the forefront of his mind and was trying desperately not to overwhelm her by thinking as he thought that the detective would.

And that was by not telling Trixie what he was concerned about until he knew whether or not she should be concerned.

"Just a moment, urchin!" He yelled back. He needed to act normal. That's what the detective would do—pretend that nothing at all was going on. Lucifer would be flippant and pretend like no one had died and nothing was wrong.

He hastily brushed his teeth, turning off the water in less than a minute. As he spat into the sink, he turned off the light switch and slammed the door behind him.

Trixie was staring up at him, and still looked so damn sad. Lucifer wondered just what she felt like. He was beginning to feel very strange seeing her so depressed. It was almost as if there was a force inside him pushing him to do whatever he could to make her smile again. At least she hadn't freaked out with the whole devil conversation—although she was still a child, so at least he had that going for him.

"Right," he said, clapping his hands together. He folded the sleeves of his shirt up to his forearms. "We're going out."

"Where are we going?" Trixie's voice sounded so depressing. You'd think that the whole of humanity was ending, instead of just the one who had.

Lucifer sighed. Think like the detective. There was a great taco place just outside the detective's—the same place he had stopped with Trixie when he'd appeared before. "We're going to get food."

"But you made breakfast already." Trixie frowned. "And I'm not hungry."

Was this what human grief felt like? A sickness of the mind? Was the child not going to eat because her friend was dead? Humans were so self-damaging. "Doesn't matter. Come on now."

He began walking towards the elevator, hoping that she would follow. And after a very quiet elevator ride, Lucifer led the way through the bright morning sunshine to his car.

He hadn't yet realized how much he missed the simple pleasures of human life—small things like going on walks in the heat with the sun beating down on his back, smelling the awful scent of petrol and litter, having all of the tourists block his way as they took picture after picture in the middle of the walkways, especially if they happened to be near one of the stars. Lucifer had half a mind to photobomb all of their pictures just for the Hell of it. Maybe he should make his next goal to get one of the stars on the Walk of Fame.

Trixie got into the passenger side and sighed again. Lucifer frowned at her and started the engine. Just how long was it going to take her to get over this? But then again humans permeated in their emotions, spending months and perhaps even years feeling a certain way. For Lucifer, everything went by so much quicker. It was almost like flipping a switch and then he'd be completely alright again.

"Do you want to, er pick the music again?" he looked over at her, hoping that it would pacify her. She had such strange, awful music tastes.

Trixie just shook her head and stared out at all of the tourists taking pictures. Lucifer missed the Trixie who was witty and said whatever was on her mind, the intelligent, go-getter, adventurous Trixie; the one who made her name belong to her. He couldn't handle this quiet, moody Trixie much longer.

He tried to think of the kind of music that she liked and hit a current hits playlist and put his phone on the console.

The traffic was not as bad as it might've been an hour before during morning rush hour, and Lucifer was hopeful that he would be able to catch up with the detective before she ventured into the neighborhood alone. He wondered if she'd been going places all by herself since he'd been gone. Had she been putting herself in danger again and again? He knew that she was human and that this was completely normal, but it made him sick to think of her going everywhere alone.

Hell had been so miserable. He was finally beginning to get so many of the human clichés that he'd never quite understood before his six-year stint on the planet. Clichés about love that he heard about in songs. Lucifer had never loved anyone before, not the way that all of the art made it seem.

But now he was realizing that there were several types of love and that English was perhaps the worst language at expressing it. Thankfully, he could understand the range of all the others.

With Trixie so quiet, he was concentrating more on the lyrics of this song he'd never heard more than ever.

I know Heavens a thing. I go there when you touch me honey, Hell is when I fight with you.

"Oh, you have got to be kidding me," he muttered. The humans were getting much more creative with their metaphors. Though he wasn't surprised, there were so many more nonbelievers now than ever before.

But we can patch it up good. Make confessions and we're begging for forgiveness. Got the wine for you.

Scowling, Lucifer went to change it. But Trixie jerked her head over to look at him just as he reached for it.

"Don't change it," she said quietly. "This is Taylor's new album."

Lucifer huffed but let the song continue. If Trixie was responding to anything, he'd put up with the music. And thankfully, they were able to zoom through the streets anyway. It wouldn't be that many songs longer and he'd catch up with the detective.

Trixie didn't notice where they were going until he turned off the highway and onto the street that would lead them straight to her house. She struggled to sit up in the seat and looked over at him suspiciously. "Where are we going, Lucifer?"

"We're just going to stop in and see how your mum is. It's been a while."

She squinted at him. "We saw her an hour ago."

"An hour too long, child," he said calmly. He wasn't lying either, as everyone knew he didn't do that, and he had missed the detective in the sixty minutes that they'd been apart.

He started to feel even more anxious as they got closer in proximity and began driving well above the speed limit.

"Lucifer," Trixie yelled—she had to in order to be heard over the roaring wind—and sounded more like herself at last. "Why are you going to fast? You're going to get stopped!"

Lucifer rolled his eyes. He'd love for the police to stop him—he still had his official civilian consultant ID somewhere—and pulled into the detective's neighborhood so sharply that the car went over on two wheels. He grinned; he loved driving. He had missed it so, so much. Maybe, once this whole Jesús situation was fixed, he'd suggest a road trip. He and the detective could drive somewhere northern, somewhere beautiful, maybe Yosemite.

He pulled to a stop just beside the detective's car, relieved that she was here and hadn't yet gone to the scene.

Trixie hopped out of the car and squinted up at him, confused as to why they'd come all the way here just for her mom. At least she could change clothes again and charge her phone. She really, really needed to talk to Becca about everything that had happened.

But Lucifer was walking so fast—Trixie had to run to catch up with him.

Lucifer didn't bother to knock on the door, slamming it open. His heart was beating so fast.

But he opened the door to see the detective sitting in the middle of the table. Chloe looked up at him and it was evident that she was worried.

"Detective—" Lucifer started.

Chloe saw Trixie standing behind him. Swallowing, and still not wanting to bring her daughter into it, Chloe held up the long cream-colored item for him to see.

Bewildered, Lucifer took a step forward and held out his hand for it. In his palm, he examined the ethereal feather.

He knew exactly who it belonged to.


	7. Chapter Seven

"What's that?" Trixie asked, stepping up beside him and plucking the feather out of his hand. 

Lucifer's reflexes were quicker than hers, and he could have easily kept her from taking it from him, but he was dumbfounded. Trixie examined the feather with interest and Lucifer continued to stare at Chloe. He was torn between wanting to rush them both back to his penthouse and wanting to fly her somewhere far away, maybe Johannesburg or Cairo. But then again, distance meant nothing for the ethereal. 

He was still looking into Chloe's eyes, into those beautiful eyes that looked like they were made of honey. The whole time he'd been in Hell he'd thought about those eyes...whether they were green or blue or gray. And today they were golden honey, red-rimmed, and he wanted to whisk her away somewhere safe so that those eyes would only be for him.   
Why had he chosen to come to LA all those years ago? Being good, human, as some might call it, might just have been the toughest thing he'd ever done. 

To love someone, he was learning, was hard. Love was not beautiful. It was painful. 

Lucifer cleared his throat; he blinked. He closed his eyes, shook his head, then reached down and took the feather back. The stem tingled the palm of his hand. "Beatrice?" he said, casting his gaze on her. "Please go pack some clean clothes." 

Trixie frowned. "But—" 

"Remember who I said I am." 

Trixie rolled her eyes and stomped away to her room. The force of her steps getting worse and worse as she walked away. 

Lucifer waited until she slammed the door and then rushed forward. He gathered Chloe in her arms, relishing the feeling of her warm body against his, the sound of her heart beating against his chest, that sweet smell of hers somewhere in between vanilla, coconut, and lavender. "Are you alright?" he murmured. "Did you see anything?" 

It was so painful to think of the proximity of harm she'd been near. It reminded him of fighting off Cain, of her being there. Lucifer shivered. 

"I'm okay. Lucifer, what's going on? Who does it belong to?" 

He twirled the feather in his fingers behind her back. Trixie was in her room, angrily slamming things into a duffel bag. Lucifer sighed, then gently shoved the feather into his back pocket. "I'll tell you all about it tonight. Why don't you pack some things and come and stay with me? At least at Lux. Maybe somewhere else." 

Chloe pulled back. "I can't, Lucifer. I have to go to work. We have to find out who killed Jesus." 

Contrary to popular belief, Lucifer actually had a lot of patience. He was often quick to anger, careful with his emotions, took care not to light a fire too often. But something in him snapped, and he said, with a complete straight face, "Guess I'll get used to raising your offspring on my own, then." 

Chloe's brow quivered, and she stared at him without smiling. She folded her arms across her chest. "How could you say that, Lucifer? How could you threaten—" 

"I'm not threatening her," he snapped, then immediately felt bad at how she flinched. "You are in danger, Detective. You and the child. And you going to work will end up making that danger more vivid and real. So please, for the love of my dad, please just pack your things and come back to Lux with me." 

They stared at each other for a few seconds, both listening to the sounds of Trixie throwing what appeared to be everything in her room around, of passing cars outside, the creaking of the floor. 

Finally, Chloe averted her eyes to the floor. She turned and stomped away, not unlike her daughter, then whirled around to face him. "Fine. Will you tell Dan?" 

Lucifer smirked—that he could do. "I'd be more than happy to alert Detective Douche." 

##  
It was a beautiful day outside; the temperature was just right—hovering around seventy-five degrees, not too cold and certainly not too hot. The sun was so bright that Chloe squinted as she drove, Trixie unusually quiet in the passenger seat. Lucifer trailed behind them and Chloe's eyes darted to find his through the mirror every now and then. And each time she tried to look at him, he would be looking back at her. 

It had been such a strange few days. 

What Chloe wanted more than anything was to just sleep, to feel numb to the world for just a few hours, to not have the real world haunting her dreams. It was the price of being a parent that stopped her—how she wished that she could understand what was going on in Trixie's head, to be able to take all of her pain away concerning the recent hurt. She had, over the course of Trixie's twelve years, thought about who Trixie would grow up to be. Thought extensively about the little girl's future character, whether she would grow up to be a doctor or a model or a lawyer; occasionally, she pictured Trixie as a full adult with a child of her own. 

But the Trixie sitting beside her was so sullen and quiet that it was as if Chloe didn't know her at all. 

Chloe pulled to stop behind a stoplight and looked over at her fully. "Are you hungry, baby?" 

Trixie shook her head. 

"Thirsty? Do you want to get milkshakes before we get to Lucifer's?" 

Trixie shook her head again and mumbled something under her breath. 

Chloe raised an eyebrow. "What was that?" 

"I said I wish that Lucifer would go back to Hell. I wish he'd never come back," she muttered. "This is all his fault." 

Chloe opened her mouth, then closed it again. Lucifer beeped his horn at her, and she glanced up and saw that the light had changed. She drove through the intersection, her mind going a thousand miles an hour. Lucifer continued to trail them, and Chloe, for the life of her, could not think of anything to say. 

She racked her brain for any lasting knowledge from the psychology class she'd once taken. 

Human beings were exceptionally likely to blame scapegoats for wrongdoings…the whole of human history was based upon this framework. And Trixie was still so young. It made a lot of sense that she would think of Lucifer as the problem, since his return appeared to be the catalyst for everything changing as she knew it. 

Especially if she finally realized that Lucifer was the Devil. 

'Trixie," Chloe attempted to say calmly. "This is not Lucifer's fault. Lucifer…Lucifer is good, monkey. Lucifer is really good." 

But Trixie didn't say another word. 

They neared closer to Lux, Lucifer still trailing behind them. He often tried to get Chloe to speed up, to just go a little faster, his heart racing at the idea of how much danger surrounded them. 

##

Trixie just didn't buy any of it anymore. Not a thing that her mom had tried to explain made sense to her. She continued to glare out of the window, at the infrastructure, the passing cars, people with strollers and backpacks and messed up haircuts, in her opinion. She was so confused. She had loved Lucifer, had sometimes wished he really was her mom's boyfriend and that they could all live together. He was so weird, but so funny, and he made her mom really happy. But Trixie couldn't forgive him for this. For being evil. 

Last year, in social studies, they had learned about the term genocide, which meant that a lot of people were killed, usually by someone. The genocide they learned about had happened during World War II, but Mr. Hannigan made sure to tell them that genocides had been happening throughout all of human history. Some boy, she thought it might have been Trevor Rollins, had asked Mr. Hannigan why genocides happen—how people could be so mean that they thought that they could kill someone else. And Mr. Hannigan had said something along the lines of it being human nature. 

Trixie was beginning to blame Lucifer. You couldn't be good and be the Devil—it just didn't make any sense. Perhaps Mr. Wyatt was wrong after all—Heaven and Hell were real, but the Devil really was to blame for all that was wrong with the world. 

There was a word for it. Trixie tried hard to remember it. She'd read a book with the word for a title back in fifth grade…hoodwinked. To make someone think you're someone that you're not, or something like that, and too use it as your advantage. 

Lucifer had hoodwinked her. He had hoodwinked her mom. At least her dad had always sort of hated Lucifer. But here she and her mom were, following the evilest being in all of history up to his own apartment, where he could do whatever he wanted to them. 

##

Lucifer unlocked the door and led the way to the elevator. Trixie followed steps behind him and Chloe, watching carefully around them. She didn't want to admit it to anyone, but she was kind of scared. She felt a bit like she'd become the main character in one of those adventure books. She had to figure out a way to be smarter than Lucifer—that was the only way that any character ever won against the villain. But her mom and Lucifer were walking so close together that Trixie started to understand what the problem was going to be. It wasn't that Trixie was hoodwinked by Lucifer, at least not anymore. But her mom was still very much hoodwinked by him. 

Trixie's bag was really heavy—she wished she'd brought less stuff. Especially since she wasn't going to spend as much time at Lucifer's as he thought. Lucifer had offered to carry her bag for her, but Trixie had refused. She didn't want him touching anything of hers ever again. 

Lux looked different depending on the time of day. It hadn't been open the past few nights, and Trixie was never really supposed to go even if it was open, but usually it was lit up by different colored lights and full of people wearing hardly any clothes. It usually smelled really nasty. But in the daytime, it looked abandoned. The sunlight shown through a window, casting dust into the light. Her feet echoed against the floor. It looked about as empty as Trixie felt. 

Trixie followed her mom and Lucifer into the elevator. She was going to have to think of a way to convince her mom of how evil Lucifer was. 

She dropped her bag to the ground as soon as the doors closed. It really was heavy. Her shoulder were aching. 

Lucifer leaned against the back of the elevator; his arms crossed against his chest. He looked tired. If Trixie didn't know any better, she'd say that he looked really sad. Trixie couldn't imagine why. Actually, she could. It was all a scheme. For the hoodwinking. 

She glared at him. 

But…if she was going to outsmart him, she reminded herself, she would have to pretend like she liked him. She was also going to have to find out as much about him as she could…he would have to trust her. 

So, she let her face soften. She had been in her elementary school play every year. She could act; she was born in Los Angeles after all. 

Clearing her throat, she looked up at him. "Lucifer?" 

He sighed. "Yes, Beatrice?" 

"If you really are the Devil," she side-eyed her mom to see if she would react. Chloe didn't. "Then what is Maze?" 

Lucifer glanced at Chloe. Chloe told him what Trixie had said—the first thing she said to him as Trixie had trailed behind, in fact. How could she not? Lucifer had, in just the short time he'd been back, replaced himself as her partner, her confidant. And Lucifer's reaction had been controlled. She remembered how, just a year before, Lucifer had struggled so much with being evil, with being what humans considered to be the very reincarnation of wrong, and she didn't want to see him struggle again. 

With a tight-lipped smile, Lucifer had told Chloe that philosophy was only useful when you had free time. 

"I'll handle it," he'd promised Chloe. 

He looked down at Trixie. "Maze is a demon. The best demon." 

Trixie's face furrowed up, as if she was about to start shouting. Then just as quickly, she smoothed out her expression. "So that makes her like, your second in command?" 

The elevator dinged, and the doors opened up into Lucifer's penthouse. He waved his hand so that Trixie and Chloe would get off first. 

"I don't have a second in command," he said tiredly. He picked up her bag for her and dropped it on the floor. "I am my only command." 

Trixie nodded. She stepped towards the kitchen. This was going to be easier than she thought. There was that one Greek myth they'd read this year in Language Arts class, the one about the boy who is so obsessed with himself that he stares into a lake. Narcissus. 

Lucifer was arrogant. The Devil was arrogant. He was narcissistic…it was his fatal flaw. 

Taking him down wasn't going to be that hard, after all.


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay so I have spent the past week rewatching half of S3 and most S4 in order to get back in the groove of this story! i'm really trying to write Lucifer's character realistically here, so I hope that comes through a little better in this chapter. for the first time, i have a concrete plan of where to take this story (which i began almost a year ago when i really just needed somewhere to put all of my emotions about that S4 finale)! thank you so much for reading, putting on alerts, giving kudos, and especially reviewing! every time i get a notification, it makes me want to write so much more. as always, please feel free to give me your honest thoughts! 
> 
> i hope you are staying safe, happy, and healthy in these times. :)

Minutes later, when the atmosphere had settled, Chloe and Lucifer had migrated to his bedroom. It was just after noon, and Chloe was perched at the end of the unmade bed, sitting cross-legged with her face in her hands. Lucifer was sitting a few inches from her, far enough so that no part of either of them were touching, but close enough so that Chloe wished they were. They talked in hushed voices about their next steps. Chloe had long since turned her phone on silent, although she expected Dan to walk into Lucifer's place at any moment.

Chloe stood and peeked into the main room. Trixie was doing homework on the sofa, after promising Lucifer, with quite the attitude, that she wouldn't scuff it up. Chloe turned back around and stood in front of Lucifer; arms crossed.

Reluctantly, he glanced up at her.

"Will you at least tell me what the feather has to do with this? Is that the…being that killed Jesus?"

He smirked. "If you're asking if the killer is a Roman, they've been called Italians for centuries now."

Chloe sighed. "This is serious, Lucifer."

"Well, I am serious, Detective," he tilted his head. "We have to find the boy's own personal Judas. Another one of those things I get a bad rep for. Did you know they blame me for Jesus's death? As if!"

Frustration was quickly building up inside of her. With the recent case, the recent trauma, there were still so many things left unsaid between the two of them. She hadn't had time to go through all of the feelings she had about Lucifer's disappearance, about him leaving her, for what she felt like was forever. She had tried so hard to keep going, to keep up the charade for Trixie, but it had been so hard.

When Chloe didn't respond, Lucifer stared at her, his mouth slightly parted.

"Detective," he sighed, putting his hands in the air. "Look, it's complicated."

"Yeah, well, I'm used to it with you," she snapped.

His jaw set. "You wouldn't understand. I'd have to lay out the whole of celestial history for you and we haven't exactly got an eon to sit around here and do that."

Chloe was so easily angered when there were things she didn't know, when there were pieces of information being blatantly kept from her, especially surrounding Lucifer. He was the one who left her on the balcony after she'd finally poured out her heart to him.

And now she was on the run from something she didn't even understand. And she hated having to put her trust in someone. But if she absolutely had to, then Lucifer was the one to trust. She took a breath and closed her eyes.

She didn't want to be mad at him.

"I'm sorry. I know this isn't your fault. I'm just…"

"Happy to see me? Excited for me to be back?" Lucifer interrupted.

For the first time since they'd arrived back to the penthouse, Chloe smiled. "Of course. I thought I told you that last night. I don't know, Lucifer, I'm just worried."

Lucifer watched her pace back and forth along the end of his bed, his eyes following her wherever she went. He was starting to realize something peculiar about humanity—first with Linda and his nephew; now the Detective and her offspring. Of course, the Detective had always been this way with Beatrice. But it was odd how even the suggestion that the child might be in any sort of danger while the child sat just in the other room, safe as can be. He'd never had that with his parents. While he hadn't even had a childhood, neither had ever been so focused on his wellbeing that they would be willing to give up their existence to protect him.

Lucifer swallowed. "Detective, you have my word that I'll protect Trixie."

Chloe knew this of course, on some level at least. Lucifer had already shown how far he would go to protect Trixie, to protect her. But unfortunately, the lengths that he would go to wasn't exactly compatible with her.

She turned to face him. She didn't say anything for a few moments—they locked eyes and she tried to read them. Lucifer counted the seconds in his head.

Chloe took a deep breath. "Until you have to go away again? We don't even know why you're back here, Lucifer. Because Trixie prayed for you to come back? And God punishes her for it by killing her friend? And now she's in danger because of some demon!"

"I told you it's not a demon—"

Chloe's red-rimmed eyes stopped him. He took a deep breath, stepping closer to her. It reminded him of that night on the balcony. He didn't like to see her so upset. Honestly, after his time on Earth, he hadn't liked to see any of the genuinely good humans upset. But Lucifer wasn't human…

"I told you I'm not going to go away again if I can help it," he sighed. "I left on my own accord last time. To keep everyone safe. Besides," he said, standing up. He reached out a hand and put it under her chin, tilting up her face until her eyes met his. "We're not in danger because of a demon, Detective."

He took the feather from his pocket and twirled it around in his hand. There were still details he was leaving out, details the detective didn't need to necessarily know, and he hoped to keep it that way.

Chloe stared at the feather. It was long, probably two or so inches from being a foot. It was somewhere between cream and taupe, yet it glimmered in the light like it was made of metal. And the detective mindset of hers couldn't help wondering why it hadn't gotten messed up while being in Lucifer's pocket—as he drove, as he sat on the bed, as he walked. It was in the perfect condition it was when she had first laid eyes on it at least two hours before.

Lucifer pushed it so close to her face that she could smell it. It smelt somewhat like a wet animal.

"This feather," he said, sighing dramatically, and moving the feather away from her. "Came from wings, Detective. Demons don't have wings."

"Then you know who it belongs to?"

Lucifer scoffed. "Of course, I know who it belongs to. I didn't get cast out of the city for nothing!"

Chloe didn't understand his metaphor. "What does that have to do with anything?"

Lucifer walked the length of the room. "Well, you know the stories. You humans get a lot wrong." Chloe flinched at being classified as 'you humans,' and Lucifer's tone softened. "But they get a few things right. You'll note that I got thrown out because they say I tried to be equal with Dad. That's somewhat correct," he rolled his eyes. "But honestly detective, you should also know that you don't try and beat the all-powerful by being stupid."

"Lucifer, I don't understand what—"

Lucifer sighed again, then stopped in front of her. "You try and beat the opponent by learning all about them, Detective. By researching them to find out everything. This," he held up the feather again for Chloe to see. "Belongs to someone you humans know particularly well. You just got his kind wrong. Typical."

"His kind?"

"He was written into the Torah, the Bible, the Qur'an, as a prophet. But he wasn't a prophet. The typical typo, yada yada yada. They didn't have typewriters back then, you know. Honestly, there's not much you lot truly understand about the celestials, not that you can be blamed for something too difficult for you to comprehend. The idea that you think prophets were just regular humans," he chuckled. "No this," he shook his head. "This feather belongs to one of the good ones. I know him well."

Chloe continued to stare at him. "Is he a, um, relative of yours?"

Lucifer grinned at her. "Isn't that the whole shtick of it all? That everyone is related?"

He reached into his suit pocket and pulled out his phone. Chloe watched as he unlocked it.

"I'll need to let Amenadiel know, of course. He's probably on better terms with him. Though they do have quite the interesting rivalry. A is for lots of things…Amenadiel, arrogant."

Chloe waited for him to speak again, but he had turned away from her. Lucifer glanced around the column, saw that Trixie was still sitting on the couch, caught up in some book she was reading. Lucifer was slightly concerned by her change in attitude towards him, but he figured it mustn't be more than the offspring's response to grief. Something he had learned that humans took particularly hard. Still, he kept his eyes on her as he waited for Amenadiel to answer.

"Brother," Lucifer said delightedly into the phone as soon as Amenadiel picked up. "There's a new visitor in town."

##

While her mom and Lucifer were talking in the other room, Trixie had been busy scheming. First she had made sure that neither of them could see her; then, she dropped her notebook on the floor just to make sure that they couldn't hear her; finally, when she was certain that neither of them were paying attention to her, she carefully got up, crosses the room, and examined Lucifer's bookshelves.

Whether or not she chose to argue that Lucifer was actually the Devil, like he said he was, Trixie had to admit he had a lot of books—a lot of which looked old and smelt pretty funny. Honestly, he probably had more books than most people she knew. Though, knowing Lucifer, he probably only had them to make his apartment look nice.

She browsed the shelves, not really sure what she was looking for. A lot of the books had titles in languages she didn't know. Even more of them looked like they'd fall apart if she even touched them. If she could only get his phone and go through it, she'd know much more about what to look for there. But Lucifer usually had his phone with him, and it would be much harder for her to get it away from him without him being suspicious.

She knelt down to look at the bottom shelves. For someone who claimed to be a religious figure, Lucifer had a lot of books on spirituality. Buddhism, Judaism, Hinduism, Islam, something called Confucianism. In between a Qur'an and a book on Taoism, there was a thick black book; the spine read Bibel in capital letters. It must have been how they spelt Bible a long time ago. Trixie carefully took it off the shelf, trying not to make any noise.

Trixie had seen Bibles before. Her dad had one in his house and plenty of her friends were Christians. Jesús too, especially. But Trixie, while she definitely believed in God, wasn't so sure that there was one religion that was truer than all the others. She'd never read the Bible before.

It was really old and really thick. It smelt really gross and the pages were so thin and crinkly that she was worried about even touching them.

On the inside of the cover, she had to squint to read the inscription. Trixie was glad that her fifth grade teacher had made them practice cursive handwriting for so long, otherwise she definitely wouldn't be able to read it. The inscription was in a different language, but she could make out the letters. When her phone was charged, she'd have to Google translate it.

Zu Lucifer, In gutem Glauben, Martin Luther

juni 1538

Her mouth dropped as it came to her that she was holding a book from five whole centuries ago. But Martin Luther King Jr. wasn't alive back then…unless there was another famous Martin Luther. She really wished she hadn't let her phone die.

She closed the book after realizing it was all in a language she didn't know, in writing she couldn't read. Trixie glanced back up towards Lucifer's room. She didn't see either Lucifer or her Mom, which meant they were probably talking. Probably talking about her. Or maybe what to do about Jesús.

Trixie slid the Bibel back on the shelf and continued to look through them, hoping she could find one in English. There was one a few books down that spelt Bible the normal way, so she pulled it out.

It looked about as old as the other one, but this one at least had words on the cover, even though some of them were spelt wrong too.

THE HOLY BIBLE, conteyning the Old Testament, AND THE NEW: Newly Translated out of the Originall tongue & with the former Translations diligently compared and rectified by his Magistie's special Comandment…

Trixie opened it carefully. These pages looked like they might fall apart too. They crinkled as she turned them, but these words were definitely written in English, even if some of the text was still difficult to read. She noticed they put the letter 'f' where the letter 's' could go. People really weren't that smart back then.

She didn't know where to begin. It was so big with so many different chapters. She'd heard of Genesis before, but so many of them seemed to be named after people. Joshua, Isaiah, Daniel. And where was she supposed to find the parts about Jesus? Shouldn't there be a chapter called Jesus?

She flipped through, skimming through the text. The alphabet looked different and they words were written in a mixture of cursive and print. It was just such a long book that she wasn't sure anyone could actually get through it.

Trixie knew that Jesus was in the New Testament, and while she hadn't really looked at one before, that part had to probably come closer to the end.

She flipped through, scanning each fifty or so pages, until she found Jesus's name. He didn't seem to have a chapter named after him, but she ended up in the chapter called John, and squinted down at the page. It was written so weird. She couldn't understand much of it.

24\. Simon Peter therefore beckoned to him, that he should ask who it should be of whom he spake.

25\. He then lying on Jesus' breast saith unto him, Lord, who is it?

26\. Jesus answered, He it is, to whom I shall give a sop, when I have dipped it. And when he had dipped the sop, he gave it to Judas Iscariot, the son of Simon.

27\. And after the sop Satan entered into him. Then said Jesus unto him, That thou doest, do it quickly.

Trixie stared openmouthed down at the page with wide eyes. Her heart fluttered. Not only had she found a part about Jesus, but Satan was there too. And since Satan is another name for the Devil, then this must be about Lucifer. If Lucifer had killed Jesus Christ, the central figure in Christianity, then perhaps he had been the one to kill her friend Jesús too.

Her heart was filled with so much hate in that moment that she knew she had to get away as soon as she could.

She didn't even feel like confronting Lucifer anymore. She wished that life was like her Sims game, or that you could just go back and redo things when they went wrong. She wanted to go back and invite Jesús to have a sleepover, so he wouldn't have been at home when his family was murdered, so that he would still be alive, and she could still talk to him.

And somewhere, deep down, Trixie was only blaming Lucifer so that she wouldn't blame herself.


End file.
